


The Battle for the Seine

by tptplayer5701



Series: "Mind Games"-verse [26]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Action/Adventure, Akumatized Roger Raincomprix, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bee Miraculous, Bossbug, Butterfly Miraculous, Dragon Kagami Tsurugi | Ryuko, Fox Alya Césaire | Rena Rouge, Friendship, Horse Max Kanté | Pegasus, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Kwami & Miraculous Lore, Major Character Injury, Minor Luka Couffaine/Kagami Tsurugi, Miraculous Holder Ivan Bruel, Miraculous Holder Juleka Couffaine, Miraculous Holder Mylène Haprèle, Miraculous Holder Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Miraculous Holder Rose Lavillant, Miraculous Holder Sabrina Raincomprix, Monkey Lê Chiến Kim | Roi Singe, Mouse Miraculous, New Miraculous, New Miraculous Holders, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ox Miraculous, Pig Miraculous, Post-Hawk Moth Defeat, Protective Luka Couffaine, Road Trips, Roger Raincomprix Knows, Romance, Rooster Miraculous, Snake Luka Couffaine | Viperion, Tiger Miraculous, Turtle Nino Lahiffe | Carapace, Villain PoV, new heroes, new villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 59,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26066554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tptplayer5701/pseuds/tptplayer5701
Summary: A "Mind Games"-verse story:The Heroes of Paris have spent most of the year since Hawk Moth's defeat seeking to combat the growing Lynchpin threat, despite suffering losses. However, having acquired information about the Lynchpin's drug smuggling operation, they are in a position to stop that threat in its tracks. But Lynchpin will not go down easily.Can the Heroes of Paris reclaim their city from the Lynchpin? In a globe-hopping adventure the Heroes join with new allies to battle the Lynchpin and his minions across four continents. Will the Heroes stop the Lynchpin? Or will the Lynchpin continue to expand his empire, beyond Paris and across the world?
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alix Kubdel & Jalil Kubdel, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Chloé Bourgeois & Alix Kubdel, Chloé Bourgeois & Sabrina Raincomprix, Juleka Couffaine & Rose Lavillant, Luka Couffaine/Kagami Tsurugi, Max Kanté & Roger Raincomprix, Max Kanté/Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix & Sabrina Raincomprix
Series: "Mind Games"-verse [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666807
Comments: 130
Kudos: 60





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work is far broader in scope than the previous works in the "Mind Games"-verse (in case the Summary didn't warn you!). There are 30 chapters, and in format it is something of an expanded version of “The Queen Is Dead: Mission Logs,” with Max and Sabrina coordinating the Heroes’ missions against Lynchpin. Consequently, it isn’t structured as a single narrative. Instead, I structured it as a number of 2-5-chapter arcs focusing on different groups of heroes which are connected together by Max’s story with Sabrina. And unlike “Mission Logs,” this takes place on three (technically four) continents, involves just about all the heroes in some capacity, and even fleshes out the other miraculous teams. And adds new heroes and villains. When I say it got away from me, I mean it got away from me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Sabrina try to figure out Lynchpin's drug smuggling operation

Max glared at the stack of computer monitors in front of him. Two showed virtually-identical manifests from a container ship that had arrived at Le Havre the week before their Spring Break press conference, with a pair of shipping containers highlighted. A third monitor compared the contents of the two containers. Something was missing, but he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“I have finished running the diagnostic on the prototype!” Markov chirped from the opposite side of the lab. “There was a misplaced punctuation in the coding; by correcting it I calculate an increase in efficiency by at least 35%!”

“Is that going to solve the meltdown problem?” asked Max, glancing away from the monitors. Markov was hovering over a processor attached to the prototype portal generator rings, with several cables running from the robot to the pieces of the device. Considering that his other project was stymieing him at the moment, he could shift to a different operation.

“The increase in efficiency will require less power to operate,” Markov replied. “I calculate a reduction by a factor of five, with a 65% chance of bringing it within tolerance of available materials.”

“Program the simulation and run it for me, please,” Max instructed.

Obediently Markov activated his holoprojector as well as the processor. Blue projections of the rings appeared and whirred to life. With a swipe Max exposed the inner mechanism, which appeared to function optimally in the simulation. As he watched, a simulated object passed through one ring and out of the other.

“It worked!?!” he asked, eyes widening in shock. He glanced up at Markov, who bobbed in his approximation of a nod.

“According to the simulation there is a 40% chance of operating as intended,” he reported.

“We have attempted it before with less chance of success,” Max observed, reattaching the wires from the ring prototypes to the processor. He nodded to Markov, who activated the system. The processor hummed as the portal rings began to spin. Kaalki, who had been lounging on the table with a plate of apple slices, leaned forward curiously to watch. The rings began to emit a faint white light, mimicking the glow he normally associated with Voyage. Max examined one ring closely, hardly daring to breath. When the system did not start to smoke, he let out a quiet breath. “Phase One successful,” he whispered, picking up a pencil from the table. “On to Phase Two.” He stuck the pencil into one of the rings.

The moment the pencil broke the plane of the device, sparks shot out the sides of the ring. The pencil end passed through the ring in one piece, blackened and smoking. Max dropped the pencil inside the ring, and the ring melted the moment the half-burnt pencil touched the casing.

“I take it that _wasn’t_ supposed to happen?” Kaalki observed, giving him a look of dry amusement.

Max frowned at the Kwami. “I think we both know the answer to that,” he retorted. “Everything is functional, so why does it not function _properly_?”

Kaalki shrugged. “It’s not like Leonardo didn’t have issues with his inventions,” she told him. “And he never got anywhere _near_ this close to _actually_ replicating my ability.”

“He also did not have access to the same technology that I do,” argued Max. He had been working on this for months, trying to replicate Voyage using technology. He was certain that using particles with quantum entanglement was the correct method, but so far all of his attempts had failed. Some tech genius _he_ was turning out to be for the Heroes of Paris!

He didn’t hear the lab door open to the side. However, he _did_ notice when a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind and clasped over his chest, and a head rested gently on his shoulder.

Max forced himself to take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He allowed himself a small smile even as he leaned his head to the side and rested his cheek against Sabrina’s hair, taking in the scene of her shampoo. _Empathy really should come standard for girlfriends_ , he thought, stifling a chuckle.

“I sensed that you were starting to get frustrated,” Sabrina murmured. “Do you need to talk about it?”

He turned around and wrapped his arms around her in a quick embrace before gesturing toward the stools next to the lab table. They sat down, and he took one of her hands, which she squeezed encouragingly, fixing her eyes on him. “Everything appears to be failing at the moment,” he explained, frowning. “There is a pattern to Lynchpin’s shipments, but I cannot identify it. Every night we find more of his energy weapons in the hands of criminals. Every day we find more of his drugs on the streets. And on top of that I still cannot make this portal generator work!” He picked up the intact portal ring and turned it over in his hands to see that there was some scoring on the base where the pencil had impacted on its mate. “Some tech genius I am,” he grumbled.

Sabrina squeezed his hand sympathetically and interlaced their fingers together. Taking his other hand, she brought them together and stood. He looked up at her, frustration in his eyes. “You’ll figure it out,” she assured him with a smile. “Maybe if you leave it and think about something else, it will come to you.”

 _“Come to you”_ … Something about the phrase niggled in Max’s mind. His eyes lit up. “Turing,” he called without taking his eyes off of Sabrina’s face, “bring up the surveillance footage from Rouen two nights ago.” As the robot complied, he explained, “A ship unloaded at Honfleur last week, and one of the containers was immediately loaded onto a smaller ship to move upriver. I discounted it at the time, assuming that Lynchpin would only want a single transfer of his cargo. However, what if Lynchpin is bringing his shipments to Honfleur in shipping containers, transferring those containers to ships to Rouen, and then processing the shipments there?”

Sabrina smiled and released his hands as he stood up and turned to the monitors. She put an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder while they watched the video footage Turing displayed. The same ship appeared in the Rouen footage, with its container being unloaded onto the dock in the middle of the night. Max pumped his fist. “Yes! Now let me see everything we have on this container,” he instructed, turning to the other monitor.

“I knew you could do it!” Sabrina cheered.

Max turned kissed her forehead. “I did require some assistance.”

* * *

Max finally looked away from the computer when he heard a yawn from the lab table behind him. He glanced over to find Sabrina bent over two sheets of paper, covering her mouth with one hand and trying to stifle the yawn that had interrupted his concentration. Beside her, Nooroo and Kaalki had both fallen asleep leaning against his prototype portal generator. A soft whirring sound came from the charging port in the corner where Turing was docked, powered down and charging. It was already time for Turing’s nightly diagnostic check? It must have gotten later than he had realized.

“I apologize for keeping you here so late, Sabrina,” Max told her, turning away from the computer screens and resting a hand on the table. “You do not have to stay. I assure you I can manage on my own.”

“I–I know,” she agreed, stretching one arm and failing to suppress another yawn. “I don’t mind, though. I think I have something here.” She gestured to the shipping manifests in front of her on the table. “These two containers have exactly the same cargo manifest,” she explained, turning the pages around to face him. “Identical contents, identical quantities, everything. I’ve double- and triple-checked the manifests, and nothing is different between them or even leaves room for variation in weight. And yet the containers’ weights are different. I think Lynchpin must have copied the manifest of an existing container on the same ship to hide the contents, but he couldn’t hide the container’s weight.”

Max’s jaw dropped. It was so simple. “I–I think you solved it!” he whooped. He ran around the table and pulled her to her feet, throwing his arms around her in a hug. Sabrina giggled and returned the embrace.

“I just can’t figure out which one is legitimate, though,” she added, furrowing her brow in frustration.

“Markov?” Max asked.

Markov moved from his position in front of the computers to hover over the shipping logs. The robot was silent for several minutes while Max stood there with his arms around Sabrina, who rested her head on his shoulder. At last Markov turned toward them and stated, “The manifest on the left is incorrect. The listed weight is off by approximately 523.8 kilograms from the actual weight of these quantities of these materials.”

“Yes!” Max shouted, kissing Sabrina on the lips. She gave him a look of surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck and closing her eyes, holding the kiss a moment longer.

“So what do we do with this information?” she asked, pulling away and pursing her lips. “This is from last week and the container is already in Paris, so how are we supposed to use it today?”

“Archimedes,” Max replied, grinning. Seeing her dubious expression he explained, “I will write a program to compare the containers’ contents to the stated weights – calculating their expected and stated densities. It may not identify every container, but it will recognize a lot. Thank you!”

“Of course,” she replied, covering her mouth with one hand and yawning.

“I can open a portal for you to go home if you would like,” he told her. “You have already helped so much tonight.”

Sabrina shook her head. “I’ll go home when you go to bed,” she insisted. She waved vaguely at the stack of printed cargo manifests on the table. “If I can identify a couple more of Lynchpin’s containers this way, that will give you more test subjects to make sure the program works.”

With a shrug, Max released her and returned to the computer with Markov hovering by his head. He started typing code, and soon lost himself in the project. While reading through the code for the fifth time to check for errors, Max nearly jumped on hearing Sabrina snore softly behind him. She was sitting at the table still, with her head cradled in her arms. Glancing at the time display on Markov’s screen, Max was surprised to see that it was almost 4 AM. He laid his hand on Sabrina’s shoulder, and she opened her eyes to look up at him blearily.

“Wha–?”

“I apologize for losing track of the time,” he told her quietly, shaking Kaalki gently to wake her. “I will get you home now.”

“’m all right,” she slurred.

“Kaalki, Full gallop,” he said over her objection. As soon as his transformation was complete, he added, “Voyage,” and opened a portal into Sabrina’s bedroom.

“You’d better be going to sleep yourself,” she told him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

“Do not worry,” he assured her, returning the embrace. “I will call it a night right now.”

She nodded and gave him a smile before jumping through the portal, the still-sleeping Nooroo in her hand. She collapsed straight onto the bed before Pegasus had even closed the portal. The moment the portal was closed, he dropped his transformation. Turing booted back up as Markov took his turn on the charging station. As Max was leaving the lab, he instructed Turing, “Run the Archimedes Program on every shipping manifest we have and compile a list of flagged containers.”

Without waiting for the robot’s acknowledgement, he strode to the elevator and rode it to the main level, Kaalki munching apple slices on his shoulder. He grabbed a handful of homemade cookies from the jar in the office and ate his snack on the way back to the room that Adrien had set aside for him after Spring Break. After his father had left them, it had just been him and his mother. When his mother had departed for her mission in space, she had been worried about him going home to an empty apartment every night – that was why she had put off her ESA dream for so many years. And yet, despite being “alone” since she had left for her space mission, he had not had any opportunity to feel lonely. Kim’s family had made him feel right at home – he stayed at their house about half the nights. Adrien had invited him to stay at the Mansion – after Max had pulled his first all-nighter at Headquarters, Marinette had insisted on making up a room for him permanently just in case. And of course Sabrina could sense whenever he was starting to feel lonely and would always make time for him. So these days he only returned to his apartment a couple times a week to check mail and make sure everything was in order.

He smiled. His mother may be his only family, and she may be in space, but he had a new family right here in the Heroes of Paris.

* * *

“I believe we have finally figured out Lynchpin’s smuggling operation,” Max announced, looking around the large conference table. Five pairs of eyes were looking at him in surprise; one pair was watching him in excitement.

It was the afternoon following his breakthrough. Max had spent part of the morning combing through the information Turing had turned up overnight, as well as confirming with the security footage to which they had access. Sabrina had arrived to help a couple hours in, by which point Max was putting the final touches on his presentation. He had only pronounced himself satisfied at lunchtime, when he had sent a message to Marinette, Adrien, Alya, Nino, and Chloe to request this meeting.

Max nodded to Turing, who activated his holographic projector, displaying the Rouen footage. “This video is from three nights ago and shows a boat being unloaded of a single shipping container. The container was removed from this ship–” Turing shifted images “–two days earlier. As you can see, the container was not processed at the port in either location. This itself would not provide sufficient evidence for us to act on it in any meaningful way, but in combing through the shipping logs recovered by Viperion’s team last month, Sabrina and I have determined that approximately 80% of all Lynchpin’s shipments have been carried by a single Italian-flag carrier whose European shipping control center is in Lisbon.” Max stopped and looked around the table at his companions.

“This… this is huge,” Marinette observed, wide-eyed. “With this, we could take out his smuggling directly!”

“That’s awesome, dude!” Nino told him, holding up a fist for Max to bump.

“If we manage to do that, we could deal Lynchpin a major blow!” Chloe said. “Cut off his money, and he might just have to close up shop!”

“He has other income streams, though,” Alya noted. “Though from what I can tell, the drugs do account for nearly 3/4 of his total income.”

“That’s definitely worth it!” observed Chloe.

“But if we do this, a lot of his customers are really going to be hurting,” Adrien worried. “What happens to the people who’ve been using his drugs when suddenly the supply is cut in half or worse?”

“It’s not like he’s the only supplier in town, dude,” Nino pointed out. “There are other dealers out there, and we can’t shut them all down.”

“I don’t really think _we_ need to be the ones shutting down every drug dealer in town,” Alya added.

“I would settle for just getting rid of _this_ one,” Marinette announced. She furrowed her brows in thought. “But why couldn’t the Agreste Charity open a couple of halfway houses or rehab clinics or something around the city to help the people who will be most hurt by this – the addicts, that is?”

“I will be sure to look into that,” Adrien promised. “Maybe we start with one in the worst arrondissement for drug crime and then expand from there.”

“Unfortunately, it is not quite so simple just yet,” Max cautioned. “There are a few steps yet to be taken before these interdiction activities can begin. We know the company carrying Lynchpin’s shipments, and we can determine which containers are his, but we do not have the access necessary to identify them in advance and target them specifically. This is a large company, and only a small fraction of the cargo it transports is for Lynchpin.”

“So what do we need to do to get this done?” asked Chloe, cracking her knuckles.

“We need to collect more data, and we need it on an ongoing basis,” Max replied, frowning. “I have written a program capable of identifying Lynchpin shipments within a 1% margin of error, but it will need to be uploaded directly to the company mainframe if it is going to function optimally to identify the shipments with their origins and destinations, or at least if it will give us that information with enough time for us to act on it.”

“Couldn’t you portal into the office, do what you need to do, and get out?” Adrien wondered.

Max shook his head. “That would be inadvisable,” he answered. “For the same reason that we decided we needed to have a team on the ground in Le Havre and Honfleur, I believe we will need someone on the ground in Lisbon, as well. We are not clear on the conditions of the facility, there is at least a 75% chance that any mistake could tip Lynchpin off to our plans, and it would mean operating far outside of our accustomed area: if anything were to happen, whoever went would be in a foreign country without backup were I to send them in via portal. This way, they will have a cover story if the mission goes wrong, and I will still be available to extract them via portal in an emergency.”

“So what you’re saying is that someone needs to take a trip to Portugal for a couple days?” asked Alya, arching an eyebrow.

“That is correct.”

Marinette glanced at Adrien and snorted. “I have an idea.” She looked at Alya and smirked. “And I think you’re going to love it!”


	2. Lisbon Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alya and Nino travel to Lisbon to collect information, and learn a little more than they bargained for

Alya could hardly contain her excitement as she closed her laptop, stowed it in her backpack, and collected her things before getting off the plane in Lisbon. She had spent the entire plane ride writing an article for the Ladyblog – a Night Bat speculation piece she had spent weeks sourcing – and it would be ready to publish when they returned home. Ever since someone had gotten a decent picture of him fighting against Ladybug back in the spring, posts talking about Night Bat had seen more traffic on the blog than any other topic that wasn’t Ladybug herself. And now that this article was finished, she had nothing to distract her from the trip itself. She and Nino were actually on a vacation together! Sure, it was for the Heroes of Paris, and Nino would be working half of tomorrow at his gig, but it was a vacation! She hadn’t in a million years expected to take a trip out of the country with Nino that summer!

It was a testament, she supposed, to how much her parents had come to like Nino over the three years they had been together that they hadn’t raised any objections when he asked for their permission to bring her along as his “plus one” for his first major professional DJ performance. Although they had suggested that Nora should accompany them, they’d dropped the idea of a chaperone when Nora reminded them of her tournament that weekend. Not that they would have minded her coming along – Anansi would have been good backup if they ran into trouble tomorrow night.

That this would actually be a professional gig might have been the craziest part of the whole trip: Marinette and Adrien could have come up with any excuse for them to travel to Portugal, but this cover story would also give Nino a huge jumpstart in his DJ career. Kagami had mentioned to Marinette that her mother’s company was helping arrange a movie premiere in Lisbon for a movie about an aspiring DJ. The movie producer – one of her mother’s clients – was already planning to invite a world-famous DJ (another Tsurugi client) to perform for the after-party, but Mme Tsurugi was looking for other ways to set the movie premiere apart. She had approached Agreste about designing a new piece for the star to wear on the red carpet. Adrien had countered by suggesting that she bring in an up-and-coming new DJ to perform before the movie premiere.

Adrien must have been extremely persuasive, because she and Nino were in Lisbon for two nights with their lodging and food provided. _And_ Nino was getting paid for the gig.

As they reached the terminal, Nino draped his arm over her shoulders and she unconsciously leaned into him and wrapped her arm around his waist. She chuckled quietly. “What’s so funny, babe?” he asked, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“I was just thinking that the only reason we’re on this trip is thanks to Adrien and Marinette,” she explained, smiling at him, “and that’s true in at least three different ways.”

“Oh?”

“They actually arranged for you to get this gig,” she replied, lifting one finger. “The trip is for the Heroes of Paris.” A second finger. “And the reason for it to be the two of us together is because Marinette locked us in a gorilla cage together once!” A third finger.

Nino grinned. “I suppose our lives _would_ look a little different if we had wound up with different best friends when you and Adrien started at collège,” he agreed. He pulled her close and kissed her. “But all the same, I would never trade a moment of it for the world.”

They collected the couple bags they had checked and made their way out to the Uber they had rented for the trip to the hotel. As they loaded their bags in the trunk, Nino asked the driver to take the scenic route by the port to get to the hotel. When they passed the port, Alya casually glanced out the window. Her eyes immediately found the building she would need to sneak into and she started cataloging all the potential access points and security measures she might have to defeat. Given her agility, climbing to the roof and slipping in through a window would be relatively simple, especially if the doors were alarmed. Unfortunately Max hadn’t been able to give them any idea of the building’s security system before they left – that would leave a lot of unknowns.

“It looks like you would be able to slide one of those windows open from the outside,” Nino murmured into her hair, peering over her shoulder.

She nodded and leaned back into him. “Shouldn’t be a problem.” She smirked. “Especially when my green knight has my back.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder and looped his arms around her stomach as they pulled up to the hotel. “Always.”

* * *

“Come on, babe!” Alya called, pulling Nino along behind her. “We have to be at the party at two to set up, so I really want to see the Praça do Comércio before lunch!”

It was a little before nine the next morning, and they were already out of the hotel. When they had arrived the night before, it had been late enough and they had been tired enough from travel that they hadn’t done more than get ready for bed and fall asleep. However, Alya had still woken up at her usual time, and they had eaten breakfast in the hotel café before leaving to explore. They were only going to be in the city for one full day on this vacation, and she wanted to make the most of it. Before they had left Paris, she had researched the best shopping areas in the city, and this was one of the top options. And it was only a couple blocks from their hotel (which was also hosting the pre-party). And it was just down the street from the building she would be sneaking into that night. So they could scout out for their mission _and_ check out the local shops at the same time!

Behind her, Nino grinned and broke into a jog to keep up with her frenetic pace. “Relax, babe,” he assured her. “We’re practically there already, and it’s not like it’s going anywhere!”

“Do you have any idea how many of these little boutique shops there are here to check out?” she retorted.

“Tell you what,” he replied, letting go of her hand and leaning against the statue in the middle of the plaza. “You go check out the shops, and I’ll stay out here and keep this dude company!”

The first couple shops Alya tried seemed to be catering more to a male audience – she didn’t see anything for Nino, though she picked up a new tie with the “Christus Rei” statue on it for her father. The next one was full of women’s dresses, and Alya browsed for a few minutes without buying anything. A couple of the dresses featured unique patterns, though, and she took a few pictures to send to Marinette. A couple of the shops sold tourist guides and souvenirs, and she passed them up entirely. One shop, however, caught her eye and she absolutely _had_ to check it out.

Twenty minutes later, she returned to find Nino leaning against the same statue where she’d left him, moving his head in time with a beat only he could hear. She smiled fondly and watched him quietly for a few minutes. To think: she’d seen him as nothing but a goofy guy who didn’t know how to take anything seriously at first and hardly given him a passing glance. Sure, they had been part of the same friend group, but that was the extent of it. She had been horrified when he claimed to have a crush on her – while he was supposed to be on a date with her best friend, no less! But now, almost three years later, she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. He was every bit as much her best friend as Marinette was, and in some ways she even trusted Nino _more_ than Marinette: if they were in a fight and she needed help, she knew without a doubt that Carapace would move heaven and earth to protect her, even if Ladybug was busy with something else. Hell, he _had_ done that for her, more times than she could count.

“Like what you see, babe?” Nino asked, wagging his eyebrows at her and snapping her out of her reverie.

“Definitely,” she agreed, wagging her eyebrows right back. “See anything exciting over there?” she asked, wrapping her arm around his waist and nodding in the direction of the office building a half-block away from the plaza.

“Not especially,” he told her with a shrug. “They have a couple of security guards during the day, but they might not be there at night. Beyond that, they have cameras on the side of the building, but that shouldn’t be a problem if you’re invisible. All in all, it looks fairly straightforward.” He gave her a quick kiss and gestured to the shopping bag she was holding. “What’s in the bag?”

“I thought the twins might like these,” she told him, pulling out a pair of dolls. One was of a woman with brown hair and a shimmery silver-and-blue bodysuit who was holding a trident. The other was a dark-haired man wearing a red-and-green suit with a coat of arms over the chest.

Nino gave her a look of confusion. “Are these–?”

“Portugal has some heroes of their own!” she exclaimed. “Apparently we’ve inspired people! I was asking around – no one in that store actually spoke French _or_ English, and with my limited Spanish I maybe understood about three words they spoke in Portuguese, but the best I can tell these two just… showed up some time in the last year and started helping people. This one calls herself ‘Caravela,’ and the other one calls himself ‘O Patriota.’”

“Huh.” Nino furrowed his brows. “Are they dealing with anything like what we’ve got?”

Alya shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she replied. “From what I gathered they mostly go to parades and talk to kids… the kind of stuff the Owl specializes in doing. Or at least that’s what _I_ got out of the conversation.”

Nino laughed as they walked hand-in-hand to the other end of the plaza. “I hope you bought a set for Adrien… he would be so upset to find out your sisters have Hero dolls that he doesn’t have!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A “Caravela” is a type of Portuguese ship… where the name for the “Portuguese man o’ war” jellyfish comes from. “O Patriota” means “The Patriot” (fairly self-explanatory).


	3. Lisbon Chapter 2

“Hey, babe, do you think you can give me a hand with this?”

Nino was in the middle of tying the new tie the movie producer had insisted that he wear, but glanced over at Alya’s call, only for his jaw to hit the floor. Alya was standing at the bathroom door, her hair still slightly damp from her shower. She had just finished applying the finishing touches to her makeup and was wearing a dark green thigh-length dress that accentuated all her curves. She turned slightly, allowing the light to catch the light-orange beaded pattern that matched her miraculous pendant perfectly. He looked up to find her smirking at him.

“Do you like this dress?” she asked, grinning mischievously. “Marinette and I came up with it in the spring, but I wanted to wait for your first professional DJ gig to show it off. What do you think?”

“You mean other than, ‘Damn, my girlfriend’s hot’?” Nino asked, grinning. “I think you’re amazing whatever you’re wearing, but this is a definite favorite!”

She raised an eyebrow seductively and turned her back to him. Pulling her hair over her shoulder she asked, “Can you help me with the zipper, babe?”

As Nino zipped her up, she leaned back into him and turned to face him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. When he leaned in to give her a kiss, however, she pulled back, straightened his tie, and told him, “Uh-uh, not until after your gig!”

He grinned and snuck a kiss on her cheek. “Flirt.”

* * *

That evening, Nino and Alya ate a late dinner at an outdoor restaurant just outside the Port of Lisbon. The gig had gone amazingly well. The movie was actually really good, although their seats had been close to the worst in the theater. Between the party and the premiere, Nino had talked to a couple of music producers and given them business cards with his contact information (courtesy of Kagami). Now all he had to do was enjoy a quiet night with Alya… and hope it would stay that way.

He looked across the table at Alya, who was positively glowing in the outdoor lights, though the sun has set nearly an hour earlier. “I can see why you picked this dress for today, babe,” he told her, grinning. “I almost forgot what _music_ was every time you happened to stand under the stage!”

Alya put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, drawing his eyes down to the dress’s swooping neckline. Nino wasn’t entirely sure what it was about it. From head-on it looked perfectly modest, but from just the right angle – like standing on a stage a meter or so above the crowd – it gave him a perfect view. It was with some reluctance that he tore his eyes away and looked back up to meet her gaze. She smirked at him, arched an eyebrow, and cooed, “Was I… _distracting_ you?”

“I…” He cleared his throat and laughed. “I think I need to have a chat with your designer when we get home tomorrow,” he admitted sheepishly. “Though I’m not sure if it’s a ‘thank you’ or a ‘you’re paying for my health insurance now after the dozen heart attacks you gave me’!”

Alya giggled as she finished her last bite of food before checking her watch. “As much fun as this vacation has been, I suppose I should slip into something a little more… _comfortable_ since we’ve got some work to do.”

Nino nodded reluctantly and left a couple bills on the table to cover the meal. Before getting up, Alya picked a few of the remaining fruit pieces from their dessert off the plate and dropped them in her purse for Wayzz and Trixx. He’d wanted to change after the movie, but Alya had pointed out the time and he’d acquiesced – perhaps a little more readily than he would have otherwise. With a grin he held his arm out to her and they walked a couple blocks away from the port before he pulled her into an alley. The moment they were in the shadow, Nino pulled Alya close, wrapped his arms around her, and trailed kisses along her jaw line. “Good luck, babe,” he whispered in her ear before they both transformed.

“I don’t need luck,” Rena Rouge replied cheekily, giving him a quick peck. “I’ve got you!” And with that she blew a note on her flute, whispered, “Mirage,” and disappeared inside of the Mirage bubble. Carapace heard her land on the roof of the building next to them, and then nothing.

He chuckled, extracted the earpiece from his shield, and jumped to the roof to follow her and take his position on the warehouse next to the shipping control office. This wasn’t exactly the most glamorous part of the mission – at least not for him. Rena was going to be sneaking into the shipping company’s office to clone their hard drive for Max and then upload Max’s program. His job was just to watch and – if something happened – jump in to back her up. Hopefully this would be a quiet night and backing her up would be unnecessary.

“I cloned the hard drive and installed your tracker,” Rena Rouge reported over the communicator a few minutes after she had left. “It’s uploading now.”

“I have received the file,” responded Max. “Have you found any hidden logs? They may be keeping records of Lynchpin’s shipments off the computer. Viperion and Bengalia found several such on their mission.”

Carapace paced from one end of the warehouse roof to the other, scanning the parking lots around the office building for signs of trouble. So intent was he on the ground level that he almost missed the sound of boots on his own warehouse roof. Almost.

He spun around as quick at lightning, shield off his back and held at chest level, crouched so his eyes were barely visible over the shield’s rim, to find a woman standing on the far side of the roof. She was about his height, lightly-built with brown hair, and wearing what looked like a silver-and-blue leotard over dark blue leggings. She held a silver trident at shoulder level, pointed directly at him.

“Quem é Você?” she demanded, eyes narrowed in the darkness, the trident trembling in her hands.

 _So much for going unnoticed._ “Caravela?” he asked, dropping his shield to the ground at his feet, straightening up, and holding his hands in front of himself with the palms facing her. “Você fala inglês?” [Do you speak English?] Good thing he memorized that one phrase of Portuguese on the plane!

Caravela furrowed her brow. “Yes,” she replied, eyeing him suspiciously. “Who are you?”

Carapace stifled a groan. So much for not being noticed… “I am Carapace. Heroes of Paris?” Seeing her nod of recognition he went on, “I am here for the Heroes of Paris.” He frowned. She still seemed less than impressed. “I… apologize for surprising you. We did not know about you and your partner before today.”

She pulled back her trident and set the end on the ground. “I am… pleased to meet you, Carapace. Can I… help… you? What are you doing in Lisbon?”

Great. What could he give her? After all, she was a stranger… but they were still in her city. He couldn’t exactly brush her off – he sure as hell wouldn’t have appreciated that from any of the visitors _they_ ’d encountered recently. Finally he decided on a part of the truth. He stomped on the edge of his shield, flipping it into his hands, and stowed it on his back. “I am here looking into some strange things for the Heroes of Paris. Have you found anything unusual along the oceanfront?”

She shook her head. “There were some missing shipments a couple months ago, and sightings of a large grey monster by the port, but that is all. Why?”

He breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. This was something he could use. “That sounds like someone a few of my teammates encountered a few weeks ago in Le Havre,” he told her. “If it is the same person, then that grey monster was using a miraculous.” He thought for a minute. “Is it just the two of you here?”

She nodded hesitantly.

“It took four of us to defeat the grey dude once and for all,” he explained. “Even two of our best fighters could not take him on their own. Would you like our contact information in case you encounter something like that again?”

Caravela shrugged. “Having more friends could not hurt, right?” she asked rhetorically, passing him her phone.

Carapace quickly added Pegasus’ secure number to her contacts. “If you call this number, we will be able to contact you to let you know if we ever are in Lisbon again,” he told her. “And you can let us know if you meet something like the grey guy.”

“Very well.” She looked like she wanted to say something more, but merely added, “It was nice to meet you, Carapace.” Without another word she backed away a few paces, found the edge of the roof, and climbed down the fire escape to the street.

“Likewise,” Carapace murmured after she was gone. If she was climbing down, then she probably didn’t have a miraculous… probably no real superpowers – like Anansi or the Owl. Or Sk8r Girl. Or–

“Have fun with your girlfriend?” a familiar voice whispered right next to Carapace’s ear.

Carapace nearly jumped out of his shell in surprise. He spun to face the spot, but couldn’t see Rena Rouge anywhere. She started laughing, and he shook his head ruefully, already knowing she could see how red his cheeks were from embarrassment. “Oh, hush,” he muttered. “How am I supposed to have fun with my girlfriend when I can’t see you, babe? You know you’re all the woman I need! I didn’t hear any screaming, so I take it your mission was a success. Ready to head back to the hotel?”

Carapace raced across the rooftops toward their hotel. Though he couldn’t see Rena Rouge, he could feel her presence at his side and hear her occasional footfalls against loose shingles. They dropped into an alley next to the hotel, where Rena Rouge appeared right next to him and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her back tightly and buried his face in her hair as they de-transformed.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to say ‘hi’ to her,” Alya confessed as they walked into the hotel, his arm draped over her shoulders.

“Probably smart that you didn’t,” he replied with a laugh. “The less people who know _both_ Carapace and Rena Rouge were here at the same time as us, the better.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” she agreed laying her head on Nino’s shoulder as they rode the elevator to their floor. “All the same… Maybe she’ll give me an interview for the Ladyblog sometime.”

The moment the door to their hotel room was closed, Alya turned to Nino, a light blush on her cheeks and a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and commented, “For as amazing as this dress is, it really isn’t that easy to get out of… do you think you can help a girl out?”

He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, burying one in her hair while the other found her zipper. “I think that can be arranged.”


	4. Lisbon Chapter 3

Alya carefully adjusted the tripod for her phone to keep herself and her guests in the picture. It had taken a little work to set up this interview, especially with their flight leaving at three – it wouldn’t have happened at all if O Patriota hadn’t called Pegasus almost immediately after Caravela had met Carapace last night! Pegasus had taken their contact information, explained to them that Carapace had gone to Lisbon to look into some of Il Pirata’s (the miraculous user that the Heroes of Paris had stopped earlier in the summer) movements before he reached France, which had seemed to satisfy O Patriota’s curiosity. Pegasus had then asked if he had any questions. O Patriota commented that the Heroes of Paris were so well-known, he felt like they knew the Heroes already; Pegasus noted that it was thanks to the Ladyblog. O Patriota asked if the Ladyblogger would be interested in an interview. Pegasus gave him Alya’s phone number and explained that she happened to be in Lisbon already on a trip with her boyfriend!

Now Alya was sitting at a café next to the Rossio Square, across from Lisbon’s two heroes. Caravela had propped her trident up against the table – up close Alya could see that she had poked a trio of well-worn tennis balls onto the tines. She looked nervous about the interview, anxiously running a hand through her brown hair. When she pulled out a compact to check her makeup for the fifth time in fifteen minutes, Alya reached across the table, patted her hand, and reassured her (in English, the language they would use for the interview), “It is fine if you do not look perfect. People really cannot expect super _heroes_ to look like super _models_ all the time.” She laughed. “You have no idea how many post-battle interviews I had with Ladybug where her hair looked like she had gotten into a fight with a possessed lawnmower.” Of course that was because she _had_ as often as not… “And she has a miraculous! Non-miraculous heroes like Anansi and the Owl rarely come out of a fight looking clean.”

“I know,” Caravela replied, frowning. “I just… I do not want to look like an amateur.”

Alya handed her a napkin. “My advice is to wipe off the glittery eye-shadow,” she suggested. “For a superhero, less is actually more. Looking too made-up can make you appear amateurish, like you never do anything. You want to look about like you normally do, the way you would look if I just bumped into you on the street. Maybe just a touch nicer for the camera.”

As Caravela complied with the suggestion, her partner, O Patriota, let out a laugh. “This is what we need,” he observed. “We need someone to help us with these publicity things!”

Alya filed that away for later. She glanced at the phone to make sure it wasn’t recording. “Right, let me set up some ground rules for the interview,” she said, turning to the two heroes. “Since the interview will need to be subbed, it will not be live, which means I can edit it before posting. I will give a little background before asking the questions. I will ask you a lot of questions, some of them prying, but you are under no obligation to answer any of them, especially if they are too personal. If you avoid the question I will move on. It is entirely your decision on how much you share about yourselves, as well as how much of what you tell is personal rather than a ‘public persona.’ For example, the ‘Ladyblogger’s’ favorite superhero is the obvious,” she swept her hand down to indicate her Ladybug t-shirt, “but _my_ personal favorite can change. So be honest, but do not over-share: I assume you do not want people finding out who you are because you said the wrong thing or said too much! Do you have any questions before we start?”

Both her guests shook their heads, and Alya hit the button to start the recording. She looked into to the phone camera, beamed widely, and began, “This is Alya for the Ladyblog, and have I got a treat for you! I happened to be in Lisbon for a couple of days with my wonderful boyfriend (link below) when I came across these super-cute handmade dolls in a gift shop!” She held up the hero dolls to show. “It turns out that Lisbon has its very own superhero dynamic duo in O Patriota and Caravela, who were amazing enough to contact me this morning to set up this interview! Thank you so much for joining me today, guys,” she added, turning to the other two.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Alya,” O Patriota replied, flashing a broad smile. “We are very excited to share some of our story with your audience, both in Paris and here in our own city!”

Caravela nodded. “We are happy to talk to you,” she added, giving a small smile of her own, her cheeks tinged pink.

“So tell me about yourselves,” Alya continued. “How did you become heroes?”

“For me it all started a couple years ago,” answered O Patriota. “We heard about your Hawk Moth early on, of course, but for the longest time I was just grateful he was in Paris instead of Lisbon! But then I started thinking: what if he _were_ to come here? Who would stop him? We had no _Joaninha_ , no _Gato Preto_ , of our own. Of course, there was nothing that a regular person like me could do against any of your Akuma villains. Still, the idea was there.” He shrugged. “It might have remained nothing but an idea, but then your Heroes of Paris recruited their first non-powered member and I realized: if the Owl can be a hero, why not me? So O Patriota was born.”

Alya struggled to maintain her “professional” face – she almost wanted to show this to the Owl personally when they got home. His reaction to finding out _he_ had inspired copycats in Portugal would be absolutely priceless!

Caravela looked at him for a moment when he stopped speaking before starting her own story. “My story was much the same. I just wanted a chance to help people and make a difference in my city. When I saw O Patriota running around, I wanted to help out, too.”

Alya nodded encouragingly. “I notice that you carry a trident,” she observed, pointing to it. “We are on the ocean here but I doubt that is standard equipment! There _has_ to be an interesting story behind that!”

Caravela flushed in embarrassment but turned her trident so the tines faced up. “I have always been fascinated by jellyfish,” she explained. “I was actually working on a synthetic version of jellyfish venom when I decided to do this. My version will paralyze the person for about an hour, without any of the usual negative side effects – although I carry the anti-venom just in case. I worked it into the trident as a delivery system.”

 _Sounds like someone else I know,_ thought Alya with a smile. Aloud she asked, “Are you any good with that thing?”

Caravela grinned. “There are a few people in prison right now who could tell you just how good I am!” she joked.

“So is the jellyfish where you got your name and color pattern?” asked Alya. “I love the blue tentacles against the silver background!”

Caravela nodded, blushing. “I actually designed the suit myself!”

Alya turned to O Patriota. “And there can be no doubt where _your_ suit came from! Red and green: very _patriotic_ , yes?”

O Patriota puffed out his chest to display the coat of arms more prominently. “Absolutely! I love my country!” he declared.

“So how far does that love of country extend?” Alya asked, smiling. “Have you served your country?”

“I actually served in the military for three tours before retiring and looking for another way to serve,” he answered. “Now, instead of wearing fatigues and carrying a gun to serve my country, I wear a flag and carry a riot baton to serve my fellow citizens.”

“So take me into a day in the life of Caravela and O Pirata,” Alya instructed them. “What do you do? How do you serve your city?”

O Pirata nodded to Caravela, who explained, “For the most part, we just split the week in half: he goes out three nights, I go out three nights, and we go out together on the last one. When something big happens or when there is a big event, we will both attend usually.”

“Lisbon is a wonderful city,” O Patriota added. “Often the most important thing we do on our patrols is to help people get home from the bar. Only occasionally have we had to confront a criminal.”

Alya grinned. “Is it just the two of you? No support? Now I am sure there is at least one person out there in Lisbon wondering, ‘Are they recruiting?’”

O Pirata chuckled. “At the moment it is just the two of us,” he replied. He turned to look into the camera. “But to anyone in Lisbon who is interested: we will not turn anyone away who wants to help us serve our city!”

“That is quite a story, you two!” Alya gushed. “To see a need and then work to fill it! To find a way to use your talents to help others! I am sure that the people of Lisbon sleep better at night, knowing that you are out there working with their police to keep them safe.” She smirked. “Now for the question that I am sure my longtime followers have been expecting. Back in the day I was the world’s number two ‘LadyNoir’ shipper – right after Cat Noir himself.” Caravela paled. “Ever since that ship sailed when they got together last year, my readers have been curious about the next ‘super ship.’ So… is there any chance of a CaraPat ship setting sail?”

Caravela looked at O Patriota, and they both made a face of horror and disgust at the same moment. Caravela turned back to Alya and almost shouted, “There is absolutely _no_ chance of that. Ever!”

“Okay, okay,” Alya muttered, rolling her eyes. She schooled her expression, turned to the camera, grinned, and said, “There you have it, guys! Here are Caravela and O Patriota: the Heroes of Lisbon! And this is Alya for the Ladyblog, signing off!” She waited a second before hitting the button to end the recording. Turning back to her interviewees she smiled excitedly and told them, “Thank you so much! I will edit this, add subtitles in French and Portuguese, and put it up when I get home! I take it you would like me to edit the last question out?” When Caravela nodded adamantly, Alya’s smile turned mischievous and she leaned forward. The other two leaned in a little closer and she quietly whispered, so only they could hear, “I promise you that I will, but you really need to come up with a better response for the next time someone asks that question – because you know they will. I would suggest a response that does _not_ give away that you are actually siblings!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Joaninha” and “Gato Preto” are Portuguese for “Ladybug” and “Cat Noir” respectively. Presumably that is how the heroes would be reported in Portuguese-language publications.
> 
> Do you want to see more of Caravela and O Patriota moving forward?


	5. Lisbon Chapter 4

Nino reclined his seat, slipped his headphones on, and tried to relax and take a nap. The flight back to Paris was only a couple hours; they would be home in time to have dinner with Alya’s family – and that was always a treat since Marlena was a world-class chef! Not much time to sleep… or do much of anything else. But still a perfect opportunity for a nap to catch up on the sleep they had lost the night before on their mission.

Of course, that would never stop Alya from trying to get as much work done for the Ladyblog as possible.

Alya was hunched over her laptop in the confined space of her seat, typing furiously on her initial teaser for the interview with the “Heroes of Lisbon,” as she had dubbed them since they hadn’t given themselves a name yet. He rolled his eyes in admiration: somehow, Alya would manage to get an entire week of content out of this interview – teasing the interview, the interview itself, biographies and speculation for each of the heroes… And that was even while omitting the “juiciest” piece of information she had uncovered.

Despite the music playing in his headphones, Nino could still hear Alya muttering to herself under her breath. He opened his eyes to see her frowning at the screen, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. He put his hand on her knee and squeezed. “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, sliding his headphones down around his neck.

“Just thinking about Caravela and O Patriota,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the screen. “I wonder what this attention will do for them moving forward.”

“Hopefully they can just keep helping people,” he replied. “That’s what any hero wants, right?”

“Hopefully.” She furrowed her brow and looked up at him, worry in her eyes. “What if they become targets for Lynchpin or someone like him now that people know there are heroes in Lisbon? What if bringing them positive attention this way also brings some negative attention to them?”

Nino laughed and slid his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a hug. “It’s not like they were complete nobodies before now,” he pointed out. “I mean, you found out about them because they have their own action figures!”

“I know. Still…” She hesitated for a moment. “They seem really new at this.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re both several years older than us, babe,” he argued.

“Doesn’t make them any less of newbies.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “We’ve been doing this for two and a half years. We have teammates older than us – older than _them_ – who look to us for experience. Who do they have?”

“I guess they’ve had as much guidance as we had starting out,” Nino admitted.

“Less: we still had Ladybug and Cat Noir.”

“And now they have us,” he reminded her.

“Yeah…” She rested her head on his shoulder.

“What’s really on your mind, babe?” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

“I just can’t get the look on Caravela’s face out of my mind from when I asked about them being a couple,” she mumbled. “She looked incredibly uncomfortable – he did too, but she did especially.”

“You couldn’t have known they were related,” he pointed out, squeezing her shoulder. “It was a natural question to ask – especially for you!”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “I don’t think Marinette has forgiven me yet for how many times I asked her about Cat Noir!”

He laughed. “Well, in your defense, they _did_ end up together in the end once they’d sorted everything out! Put that way, it’s not like you were _wrong_. And it’s not like you lost maid of honor duties over it!” He sobered. “I guess today they learned a lesson that it took Ladybug and Cat Noir almost a _year_ to learn: if they want to be superheroes, they need to learn how to interact with the media – including how to evade uncomfortable questions. You may have made them uncomfortable with your question, but that would have happened to them sooner or later, and it’s entirely possible that whoever asked the question would have figured out what you did, or else would not have cut the question out of the interview – allowing someone _else_ to figure it out. As it is, now they know to expect those questions, so they can come up with a reasonable answer to give the next person to ask them.” He snorted. “I’m glad ‘CaraPat’ _isn’t_ going to catch on… sounds a little too close to ‘Cara _pace_ ’ for my comfort!”

Alya giggled. “That’s true,” she agreed, though she still sounded troubled. “The look in her eyes… I remember seeing the same look in Ladybug’s eyes so many times, and I just kept asking every time I saw her… and come to find out I was doing it to my best friend in the world! Does that make me a bad reporter?”

Nino chuckled. “Do you want the honest truth?” She nodded slowly, eyes wide. “Honestly, yes,” he told her. Her shoulders slumped, and he hastened to add, “But you weren’t really being a reporter at first. You were being a fangirl getting caught up in the excitement. And you’ve learned and grown and improved since then. And in the last year you’ve actively tried to help our friends learn how to deal with media hounds like you used to be. The way I see it, the fact that you noticed the look this time, recognized it, and want to avoid putting her in an uncomfortable position again – and prepared her to handle it in the future – shows that you’ve grown.”

Alya nodded slowly and rested her head on his shoulder. He moved his hand up to run his fingers through her hair, eliciting a contented sigh from her. “This is nice,” she murmured. He continued his ministrations for a few minutes until she pulled back and asked, “What if we could help them out more as the Heroes of Paris? We can help them with their image, help them handle reporters, maybe Max can even help improve their tech. After all, we’ve been doing this for a lot longer than they have, so we have the experience they lack.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Nino told her thoughtfully. “Especially if we’re the ones who inspired them to do this in the first place. We can’t stop people from copying us, but when we know about them we can at least try to help them do it right.”

“Think you could take on a couple new recruits?” she asked.

“I could do that,” he agreed, “though we’re not sure yet if either of them really needs training.”

“Still… there’s a difference between beating up a bank robber and trying to go toe-to-toe with a miraculous-wielding super-villain,” Alya pointed out. Nino shuddered; he’d actually _forgotten_ that fact one time and nearly sent a purse snatcher through a brick wall!

She sighed and leaned into him. “What would I ever do without you?”

He grinned. “Run yourself ragged until you collapse from exhaustion?”

“Hey, I only did that once,” she retorted halfheartedly. “And _Marinette_ was the one who pulled me back from the edge.”

“And why did she do that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because she’s literally the most awesome BFF a girl could ask for.”

“Point,” he conceded. “But who told her there was a problem?”

She sighed. “You, babe.” She wrapped her arm around him. “You always look out for me. It’s what I love the most about you.”

He grinned and tipped her chin up to kiss her. “And I promise I always will.”


	6. Interlude 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All dialogue in this chapter is English.
> 
> Original Miraculous Holders appearing in the chapter:  
> Lupa Gris – (American) Wolf Miraculous  
> Jueran Eazim – (African) Scarab Miraculous
> 
> There are a number of other miraculous heroes mentioned who are part of the African and American Miraculous Teams. Those who factor into the story will receive proper introductions when they appear.
> 
> Non-Miraculous Heroes:  
> Sent-Bee – Chloe  
> Sk8r Girl – Alix  
> Amun-Vatar – Jalil

“Thanks to the information which Rena Rouge and Carapace acquired for us last night, I have identified several Lynchpin shipments which should be arriving in Paris in the next four weeks,” Pegasus announced. After Rena Rouge had completed her mission, he had stayed up for several hours to examine the data she had sent him and run it through his Archimedes program – he had still been awake when O Patriota called around midnight to introduce himself. In the morning Max had sent Ladybug a message, and she had in turn arranged this meeting with their two foreign guests. Pegasus had to shake his head at the fortuitousness of the situation: while they could have found a way otherwise, having representatives from the American and African Miraculous temples living at the Mansion would make this next phase of the operation so much simpler. “Now,” he continued, “I wish to determine the process by which these shipments are brought into Paris. If we can follow one or two through the smuggling process, we can predict how quickly they will move from Honfleur through Rouen to Paris, as well as any intermediary stops on the journey, which will make interception in Paris easier.”

“What do you need for this?” Ladybug asked. On either side of her, Lupa Gris and Jueran Eazim were watching him with extreme interest.

“Many of the containers will pass through a canal near one of your temples,” Pegasus explained, turning to their visitors and activating a holographic image of the globe showing shipping routes. With another command, he highlighted the two routes in question and focused on the Panama and Suez Canals. “If at all possible, we need your teams to observe the canals and place trackers on specific shipments. I will supply the shipment information and trackers if you are capable of performing the task itself.”

Lupa Gris nodded immediately. “My team would be grateful for the opportunity to assist you in this project,” she assured him. “Considering that two of our miraculous were stolen by your Lynchpin, and at least one is already being misused, my people are getting anxious to help.”

“Thank you,” Ladybug told her, smiling in relief.

“However,” cautioned Lupa Gris, “with Águila Altíssimo still in _los Estados_ , I should return to the Temple to help plan the mission. Onça Feroz is still inexperienced at leading in the field and will need some assistance.”

“Will you be away for long?” Ladybug asked.

“No more than a couple days,” she replied, shaking her head. “I trust Onça Feroz to lead the missions; I will only help her plan this first one and give her some guidance. Can you send me home with a portal?” she asked Pegasus.

“Certainly,” he answered. “In fact, I am hopeful that you will be able to portal to your temple without my assistance soon enough. I am attempting to replicate my portal ability with technology in order to allow for easier transport between the temples.”

Lupa Gris raised her eyebrows in shock. “ _Dios mio_ ,” she muttered. “That would be an impressive feat!”

“You do not have to keep proving why you are the smart one!” joked Ladybug, giggling.

Pegasus grimaced. “Unfortunately, the device is still not working in miniature,” he informed them. “There is a bug in the system, but I cannot pinpoint it.”

“It is a long shot, but Onça Feroz has been working on incorporating miraculous magic with technology for several years,” replied Lupa Gris. “She may be able to help you with this, especially if it will allow us to work together more closely in this way.”

“I will absolutely consult with her when I have the opportunity,” Pegasus promised.

Ladybug nodded. “That solves half our problem,” she announced. She turned to Jueran Eazim. “What about your team? Can you handle the Suez Canal side?”

Jueran Eazim frowned and shook his head slowly. “I am sorry, Ladybug,” he replied. “While I wish we could assist, we do not have the people to make it work.”

Ladybug gave him a look of surprise. “I assumed that all the Miraculous Temples would have enough resources.”

“The African Miraculous Guardians as a whole do have significant resources,” he explained, “but they are spread throughout the continent. The earliest Guardians chose to adopt a decentralized structure. My temple is the closest to old Atlantis, and the Guardians feared that the same cataclysm which befell Atlantis might come to Africa next. As a result, they divided their miraculous as well as the surviving Atlantean texts between the five temples so that if anything happened to one temple, the others might survive. Mine has the largest Atlantean library of the five, but there are only three miraculous stored at each temple. Apart from the other two holders, we only have a Guardian and two initiates living there. I could send a message to the other temples, but the five normally stay within their own sphere and rarely interact, so I doubt that they will be willing to assist us. And I do not wish to spread my family too thin, especially not while I am here.”

Ladybug furrowed her brow. “What if a few of my teammates were to return to Egypt with you?” she suggested. “Could you handle this mission with some help from us?”

“With help from a few more people, I do think we could handle this mission,” Jueran Eazim agreed.

Ladybug exchanged a look with Pegasus and smirked. “With the size of our team, I do not think that will be a problem!”

* * *

A few hours later, after sending Lupa Gris back to Peru, Pegasus was back in the conference room with Ladybug and Jueran Eazim. This time, however, they were joined by Sent-Bee, Sk8r Girl, and Amun-Vatar. Pegasus hit a button to show a holographic map of Egypt, with the Suez Canal highlighted.

“If you are willing, we have an assignment for you,” Ladybug began, eyes shifting between the three. She giggled. “I hope your passports are up-to-date!”

Around the table, the other three gave her a look of confusion. Sent-Bee was the first to smirk and give a nod of approval. “I guess after Carapace and Rena got their little ‘working vacation,’ it is time for us to get one?” she commented, arching an eyebrow. “What is the job?”

“Jueran Eazim is returning home to Egypt, and his team needs some help to plant trackers on a few of Lynchpin’s shipments,” explained Ladybug. “In addition to that mission, one of our leadership team should be there to liaise with the African Miraculous Temples and see if there are ways we can all work together. Potentially you may need to visit all of the other temples, or at least talk to their leaders.”

“Really?” Sent-Bee stared at her deadpan. “You want _me_ to play liaison and make nice with the African Temple leaders?”

Ladybug shrugged. “Maybe they will respond better to a _forceful_ personality!” She smirked. “Just remember to play nice, Chlo…”

“Oh, you know me,” Sent-Bee retorted, grinning maliciously. Ladybug glared, and Sent-Bee rolled her eyes. “Fine, I will be a perfect little _Éclaireuse_ while I am there. Happy?” Under her breath she added, “ _Ridicule_.” [Girl Scout… Ridiculous]

Ladybug rolled her own eyes and turned to Sk8r Girl and Amun-Vatar. “If you can make the trip work with your father, I think the two of you should go as well,” she told them. “That way Jueran Eazim can continue working with you at their temple.” She nodded to Amun-Vatar.

“You mean I would get to see the hidden Atlantean library under the Sphinx?” Amun-Vatar asked, eyes lighting up with excitement. “When do we leave?”

“Oh, no,” Sk8r Girl moaned softly, rubbing her temples.

“As soon as you let your families know what is happening,” Ladybug replied. “We do not have an easy cover for your trip this time,” she explained, grimacing. “And since you will be on a different continent – and will be there for a while – we cannot just use a portal to get you there.”

“We may be able to handle some of your travel via portal while you are there,” Pegasus added, “but it would be inadvisable for you to cross borders that way for long stretches of time.”

Sent-Bee snorted. “I can just tell Daddy that Ladybug is sending me to Egypt and he will hand me his card for the ticket,” she observed. “Not that I need the card; I have the number memorized!”

“Just make sure he keeps that information to himself,” warned Ladybug. “Lynchpin absolutely can _not_ find out that you are there for us, and we know he has someone close to your father.”

“Believe me, I have warned him,” Sent-Bee answered, setting her jaw firmly. Pegasus could sympathize: at least one of his possible reconstructions of the circumstances surrounding Chloe’s capture involved her father inadvertently letting slip to his office staff why Chloe was actually at the press conference.

Sk8r Girl laughed derisively. “When I told Dad that Jalil was staying with the Heroes of Paris so they could monitor his condition, he was actually relieved,” she told them. “He was kinda freaked out by what happened to the museum. I will just tell him that the Heroes think a trip to Egypt will help his recovery. There is no way he would object to that!” She frowned. “But what about me?”

“Tell him that you need to be there to help keep your brother grounded in reality,” Jueran Eazim advised. “That is true enough.”

Sk8r Girl nodded, though she still looked troubled. Pegasus frowned in sympathy: he could understand Alix’s predicament. She had been planning to spend the summer with friends and working at the Louvre. She had not planned for her brother to come into contact with the consciousness of an ancient megalomaniacal mage and require constant monitoring to prevent him from succumbing to the foreign consciousness’ power. And she certainly had not planned to take a trip to Egypt with her brother. Unfortunately, when you are a hero you have to be willing to make sacrifices to help the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm only a few chapters behind publishing here vs. FF.net, I'm going to publish the first chapters of new arcs on the same day that I finish the previous arc. At least until it's caught up, which might be by the end of "Seine."


	7. Egypt Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe, Alix, and Jalil go to visit the Egyptian Miraculous Temple for a few weeks

Jalil Kubdel was, first and foremost, a historian. Having practically grown up at the Louvre, he considered himself to be an expert on all things historical. As he had grown up, he had developed a passion for Egyptian history – his family heritage was Egyptian (Amazigh) and the Louvre had an extensive Egyptology collection, so it had seemed a natural fit at the time. He had studied Egyptology, Ancient History, and Linguistics at University, all to prepare himself for an academic career in the field of Ancient Egyptian Studies – perhaps as a researcher, or else consulting on archaeological digs. Although he had never before had the opportunity, he had always wanted to visit Giza and see the Pyramids and the Great Sphinx for himself.

But now that he was here, standing at the base of the Sphinx and staring up at the missing nose, he couldn’t really enjoy the experience because of the voice in his mind that kept insisting that face should have been _his_.

“ _This statue is nothing,_ ” Amun scoffed. “ _A child-Pharaoh playing ‘furry.’ I could tear it to pieces right now if I had half a mind._ ”

“ _Believe me,_ ” retorted Jalil. “ _I am well aware of what you could do with half my mind!_ ” To emphasize the point, he focused on his mental image of himself and two-year-old Alix building a pyramid with bricks. For each brick in their construction, he added another bar to the mental cage imprisoning Amun.

“ _If you let me out, we could reshape that face in_ your _image!_ ” Amun whispered. “ _Then_ you _would live on forever in the universal consciousness._ ”

“ _That shows how much you truly understand me,_ ” Jalil replied calmly. “ _I have no desire to_ supplant _history; my only intention has ever been to uncover and preserve it._ ”

“ _Such an idealist._ ”

“ _Thank you._ ”

“ _That was not a compliment._ ”

Amun continued speaking, but Jalil drowned him out to focus instead on his companions. Jueran Eazim – whose given name was apparently “Yousef” – had the same unimpressed look that Jalil himself often wore around the famous landmarks of Paris. Behind her sunglasses Chloe wore a look of extreme indifference – though how anyone could have that reaction to seeing the Great Sphinx of Giza for the first time boggled Jalil’s mind. As for Alix, she stared up at the Sphinx with the same expression of shock that she had been wearing ever since they arrived in Egypt.

“Suddenly all Dad’s lectures are coming together, right?” he asked her, grinning.

She shook her head ruefully. “Seventeen years you’ve been talking about this place nonstop, and all it took for us to visit was you having a run-in with a slightly-insane pseudo-god!”

“If I’d known that’s all it would take, maybe I would have done it sooner!” he joked. Alix gave him a deadpan look and pushed past him, bumping him with her suitcase as she passed.

They followed Yousef around the Sphinx to the rear of the monument, where Yousef approached a spot along the rock wall opposite the statue which bore a slight indentation in it approximately three meters tall and two meters wide. With a surreptitious look around to ensure no tourists were nearby to see, he rubbed his thumb along the silver band of the ring he wore and placed his hand against the rock wall inside of the indentation. The rock underneath his palm glowed silver, and a circle of silver expanded out through the rock to fill the indentation, which instantly morphed shape into a stone door which Yousef pushed open. Looking inside, Jalil noted a stone stairwell leading down into the ground at a steep angle and lit by a strange silvery glow. Yousef stepped through the doorway and gestured for the three of them to follow him inside. The moment they were all inside, the door closed of its own accord.

“We had to modify our temple entrance when the Sphinx became such an important tourist attraction,” Yousef explained in English as the stairwell curved around and doubled back toward the Sphinx. “The tourist traffic helps mask our comings and goings, and the Guardians’ magic keeps the entrance hidden from any unwanted visitors. We cannot risk a more elaborate entrance than what we already have, though, for fear of someone noticing it. However, according to the records our entrance used to be far more ornate and elaborate when the Temple was first built. Until European explorers stole the threshold from our entrance, at least.” He turned to look at them. “A few of the other temples are far more elaborate than this one,” he told them defensively.

“We get it, we should avoid judging the African Miraculous Users based on your crappy temple under a crappy statue,” Chloe commented, rolling her eyes.

“Way to make a good impression on the African Miraculous Guardians, Chlo,” Alix observed, smirking. Chloe stuck out her tongue at her in response.

“I am simply in awe of being in a place like this,” Jalil announced, examining the wall more closely. The rock did not appear to have been cut or shaped with ordinary tools. Based on his previously-available data, he probably would have taken it as evidence of alien intervention with the ancient Egyptians; now he knew better.

This had to be the work of miraculous magic.

“ _Congratulations,_ ” Amun observed wryly. “ _You’ve graduated from seeing_ aliens _everywhere to seeing_ miraculous _everywhere!_ ”

“ _I’m in a miraculous temple situated under the Great Sphinx; what else_ could _it be?_ ”

Amun scoffed. “ _With the Atlantean texts I found,_ ” he sighed wistfully, “ _you would be capable of far more than this._ ”

“ _And let me guess: all it would cost me is my soul?_ ” asked Jalil. “ _No deal._ ”

“ _You’re no fun._ ”

Jalil and the others followed Yousef down far below ground level, past two other doorways. Looking inside the topmost doorway, Jalil could see what looked like a hydroponic room filled with troughs of water beneath lights. The doorway on the landing below that one led to a darkened room, but in the reflected light from the stairwell he could just make out a pair of cars, a motorbike, and a van. Presently the stairwell ended, letting them out into a large underground sitting room with a dozen doorways leading off of it on either side. A handful of people were sitting in the room and waiting for them. One woman stood up right away and ran to hug Yousef, giving him a kiss and whispering something to him softly in Arabic.

“ _What are they saying?_ ” Jalil wondered.

“ _I don’t speak Arabic,_ ” replied Amun dismissively. “ _Whatever it is, it is unimportant._ ”

“ _I thought you understood all languages._ ”

“ _I do. If it’s more modern than the Sphinx, it’s not a language._ ”

“ _Is that_ really _what I sounded like?_ ”

“ _What do you mean ‘sound_ ed _’?_ ”

Yousef turned toward Jalil and the others, his arm around the woman’s shoulders. “This is my wife, Amina,” he told them with a smile. “She holds our Rhinoceros Miraculous.” He indicated a young man sitting on the couch against the far wall, who glanced up from his phone and nodded at them. “Our son, Omar, holds the Chameleon Miraculous.”

“Welcome,” Amina greeted them with a gentle smile. “We have rooms ready for all three of you. I am sure you wish to rest after your long trip.”

Chloe looked at Alix and shrugged. “Our mission will make for a long day tomorrow,” she acknowledged. “I suppose we will be grateful for a chance to rest first.”

Amina led Chloe and Alix to two of the rooms along the far wall. Jalil made a move to follow them to see his own room when Yousef put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “You come with me,” he told him. “I think it wise to resume your training at once. Being in somewhat familiar surroundings may trigger something in your… _friend_.”

Jalil nodded in acceptance; Amun had been a little more talkative since they landed in Cairo. He followed Yousef to the taller doorway at the far end of the sitting room, which led to another large room full of unusual objects which he couldn’t recognize. However, he could feel Amun stirring in his mental prison on catching sight of the mysterious objects. “What are these things?”

“Relics of Atlantis,” Yousef replied spreading his arm to take in the room. “Technological wonders which the world has yet to replicate. Some merge miraculous magic with technology, some imitate miraculous magic via technological means, and some have functions that have been lost to time.”

“And the Atlantean library?” Jalil asked.

“That is stored on the level below us,” explained Yousef. “You are welcome to explore it, but I must warn you that many of the texts are in poor condition after the city’s destruction – to say nothing of their age. And they are written in Old Atlantean.”

Amun scoffed dismissively. Jalil grinned eagerly. “That will not be a problem.”

“Of course.” Yousef led him through that room down a corridor into a final room and shut the door behind them. The room had blank white walls covered in sound-absorbent material. The moment the door was shut, Jalil had a strange sense of floating. He stumbled and barely caught himself to maintain his footing. “This is a sensory deprivation chamber,” Yousef explained, the noise being absorbed and deadened, as indigo light covered him and he transformed. He sat down cross-legged and indicated for Jalil to do the same. “This was designed by one of my earliest predecessors to assist in mental exercises, so we will spend much of our time here.”

Jalil nodded as sat down, copying Jueran Eazim’s posture. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. When he had fought Amun to regain control of his body the first time, it had been through the simplest exercises that he had reasserted himself and, with Jueran Eazim’s assistance, pushed Amun back into his current imprisonment. If Amun ever were to escape from his prison, likely he would seek to take control of Jalil in the same manner. So if Jalil was to resist Amun, he needed to maintain control of his body and understand intimately how it worked. He breathed in slowly, held the breath for a moment, and exhaled. He flared his nostrils and twitched his nose. He slowly expanded from there to practice controlling the rest of his body, moving each part in turn.

A barely perceptible indigo presence grew in Jalil’s mind before resolving into a human shape of the same color. Jalil allowed his own consciousness to form into the shape of his own body, dark blue as a contrast to both Jueran Eazim’s indigo and Amun’s gold. In front of the two human shapes, Amun’s golden consciousness was imprisoned within a large metal cage, covered on all sides with bricks and bars. Jalil’s mental projection held a hand out to Jueran Eazim’s, which clasped it.

“ _I love what you’ve done with the place,_ ” Jueran Eazim commented wryly, walking around the cage and testing a couple of the bricks. “ _I see that you have been increasing the barriers holding him in._ ”

“ _As often as I can I add another layer of bricks,_ ” Jalil told him proudly.

Jueran Eazim stuck his hand into a gaping hole in the bricks. It went in almost up to the shoulder before he jumped slightly and pulled it out, examining it with some distaste. “ _You left space for his power to get out,_ ” he observed.

“ _Yes, sir,_ ” Jalil replied, nodding. “ _If I am to make the best use of this situation, I must be able to access his powers and communicate with him._ ”

Jueran Eazim frowned as he tested the bricks around the hole. Satisfied that they would hold, he observed, “ _That is a prudent decision, but it is one about which you must be careful. Every time you allow a part of Amun’s power to escape his predicament, the prison holding him may become weaker. Yes, you can do great good with him, but he can do great evil through you if you allow him._ ”

“ _That’s why you’re here, though, right?_ ” asked Jalil. “ _To help me control him and keep him contained?_ ”

Jueran Eazim nodded, his jaw set. “ _Let us begin._ ”


	8. Egypt Chapter 2

The next morning, Chloe woke up to find her bed empty for the first time in two months. Why couldn’t she have brought Bee-atrice with her on this trip? She had all her shots, and Chloe could easily afford the ticket. Instead, Bee was at home with Jean looking after her, and Chloe had to try to fall asleep without her comfort puppy. As she sat up in bed, she gave the room a good look for the first time and shuddered. Whoever designed this place probably inspired Lynchpin: the same white walls, the same Spartan furnishing – at least the bed was slightly more comfortable and had a mattress. But still… had it not been for her extreme exhaustion from the previous day’s travel, Chloe had no idea if she would have been able to sleep at all.

Chloe pulled a yellow blouse out of her suitcase, threw it on, pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, and went out in search of breakfast. In the large gathering room she found Amina sitting at a set table along the side of the room, with a cup of coffee in one hand and reading something on her phone. There was a large bowl of something brownish in the center of the table, as well as a carafe of coffee. Chloe poured herself some coffee and sat down opposite Amina.

“Are you not going to try the foul?” the other woman asked, looking up from her phone. “I made it myself.”

 _There are at least fifty reasons that doesn’t look or sound appetizing_ , Chloe didn’t say. She gave herself a mental slap. _Play nice, Chloe._ She examined the bowl more closely before opening her mouth to reject the offer. Then a voice that sounded too much like Marinette’s for her comfort whispered in her ear that she was supposed to make a good impression on these people. “I will give it a try,” she finally replied, reaching out to accept the bowl that Amina handed to her. Chloe took a hesitant bite, then another one, shrugged, and ate the whole bowl before downing her coffee. “This is actually really good!”

“Thank you, dear,” Amina answered, refilling Chloe’s bowl. “I was unsure how much to make since I did not know when you and your companions would wake.”

“I… do not always sleep well,” Chloe admitted, frowning. “Not lately. But that is unimportant.”

“I doubt that,” Amina noted, sipping her coffee and eyeing Chloe carefully. “It sounds very important to you. Tell me about yourself. Yousef says that while the three of you work with miraculous users, you are neither miraculous users yourselves nor Guardians. So how did you come to be wrapped up in all of this?”

“We actually do not have any Guardians in the strictest sense,” she replied. “There is an old Guardian from the original temple; he gave Ladybug and Cat Noir their miraculous three years ago and watched the other miraculous until we defeated Hawk Moth. But he has been away on his own mission for much of the last year. As for me?” Chloe shrugged. “I had a miraculous,” she explained. “It literally fell in front of me when Ladybug dropped it off the Eiffel Tower. I was a hero for a year and a half, fighting alongside Ladybug and Cat Noir. And then I was captured by a criminal, and my miraculous was stolen. So now I have to keep going and try to get it back. That’s the simple answer.” She fell silent. The idea of sharing her life story with a stranger was so foreign – her own mother didn’t even know that Chloe had been abducted, nor had she cared about why Chloe didn’t see her once when she was in town over Spring Break. And yet, this was an opportunity, right? Marinette was trusting her to make connections with the African Miraculous Teams, and here was an African Miraculous Holder, genuinely seeking a connection with Chloe. “But what about you? What is it like living in a temple? How did you receive your miraculous?”

Amina sighed. “It was almost thirty years ago when the Guardian found me in a Cairo slum – one more orphan starving on the streets. But he sensed something in me and brought me back here with a handful of others. Several failed the tests, one he chose as a novice Guardian, but Yousef and I passed all the tests and were given miraculous to hold.”

“What do you do here?”

“From what Yousef has said, much the same as you,” Amina replied with a shrug. “The area we cover is larger than what you cover – half of North Africa as well as the Middle East – but we also limit the scope of how and when we intervene. Unfortunately there is only so much that we can do with just the three of us.”

Chloe scoffed. “Our team is huge, and half the time we feel overwhelmed by trying to protect a single city! Especially since our enemy now has his own team of miraculous users and people who can fight miraculous users.” She snorted: she hadn’t really considered the odds they were facing before now. “And yet, we cannot allow ourselves to be thrown off or distracted just because it is difficult. We have to do the best we can with what we have.”

“Ah, the idealism of youth,” observed Amina wistfully. “Tumwih – the previous Chameleon Miraculous holder – had that level of idealism about him. My son _still_ has that idealism. Unfortunately, that is what killed Tumwih.”

Chloe cocked her head in surprise.

“He was the one who trained us,” Amina explained. “He pushed for us to be more active in the region, especially as it started to look like peace might eventually be possible in the Middle East. So when the peace conference happened in Beirut, all three of us went to help provide security behind the scenes. While we were there, Tumwih overheard someone mention a suicide bombing planned for the day before the conference. He left Jueran Eazim and me in Beirut to watch the dignitaries, while he rushed south to try to prevent the attack. He arrived in time, disguised himself to enter the hotel, but was unable to prevent the bomb from detonating. He was killed in the blast, and the peace conference was almost derailed and barely anything amounted from it. He died, and his death accomplished nothing. It was only by luck that Jueran Eazim recovered his body and found his miraculous.”

Chloe nodded sympathetically. “Yes, it is dangerous, but that does not make it any less necessary. I was taken and tortured by monsters for a week. Afterward I thought that made me a failure, but eventually I realized that I could not hide. I had to fight. I have to stop the actual monster who is using my miraculous to hurt people.”

Amina gave her a sad smile. “Unfortunately, sometimes there are just too many monsters.”

“Why do all the African Miraculous Guardians not work together to stop all the fighting and war?” asked Chloe. “There are so many monsters out there, but you could stop them.”

“Which ones?” Amina asked rhetorically. “There are so many wars and dictators and warlords and terrorists and freedom fighters… We just cannot solve all the problems of the continent – by the time we finished, a new crop would have sprouted up. We must pick our battles. So we will intervene here and there against the worst offenders and prevent major threats that ordinary means cannot handle.”

“You mean like Amun?”

“Like Amun.”

At that moment Chloe’s phone rang. “I could have been sleeping Kanté,” she informed the caller the moment she answered. “What do you want?”

“I calculated that you had no more than a 7% chance of still being asleep,” Max replied. “I need someone to let me in. I tried opening a portal to your location for Turing to join you, but the portal backfired on me and refused to function properly. I had to portal into a restroom by the Pyramid and then walk from there instead.”

“How tragic for you,” Chloe observed drily. She shrugged and waved to Yousef, who had just entered the room. “The way you throw out those portals all the time, I’m pretty sure you needed the exercise.”

Five minutes later, Yousef led Max into the meeting room, with Turing hovering next to Max’s head. Max groaned as he dropped a pair of duffel bags on the floor with a loud thud. “Could the two of you have packed any more gear for this trip?” he asked irritably in French. He rubbed his shoulders and stretched his neck, whistling appreciatively as he took in the temple.

“Let me ask the guy who designed it all for us…” Chloe replied, smirking. “Hey, Max, is there any way you could design _more_ gear for us to use?”

“Maybe next time I will design something a little _lighter_ for you,” he retorted. “You can fight in a bikini, right?”

“Even _joke_ about that with Alix and there won’t be anything left for me to kill,” Chloe pointed out. “Alix and I had no problem carrying those to the Mansion before we left.” She grinned maliciously. “Do I need to tell Sabrina that you’re weaker than either of us?”

He glared at her. “ _You_ did not have to carry _both_ of them through 40-degree heat!”

Chloe scoffed before turning to Yousef and arching an eyebrow. Switching back to English she asked, “So what happened with his portal?”

“It must have been the protection on the Miraculous Temples,” he explained. “The first Guardians worked wards into the construction to prevent unwanted visitors. The only way to find the temple and enter it is with a Guardian. But since you have all been here already with me, you will be able to come and go as you please.”

Max frowned. “How does this protection operate?” he asked.

“It is chi-based,” replied Yousef. “The technique itself has been lost to time, but we are still able to grant access by using the Rings of the Guardians. Based on the texts we have managed to translate, the Atlanteans found ways to fuse miraculous magic and chi into their technology, allowing them to accomplish amazing feats impossible with the technology of the time alone.”

“Do you have any examples of this fusion technology?” Max asked, putting a hand on his chin.

“We have several, but the only one which is operational is the communicator, which uses energy siphoned from the Parrot Miraculous to enable the African Miraculous Council to communicate with each other despite linguistic barriers.” Yousef gestured for Max to follow him, and they left down the hallway out of the meeting room.

Chloe turned back to Amina. Back to work. “So how does this Council operate?” she asked. “Ladybug sent me to try to build connections between our group and yours, you see. We want to be able to work together more in the future.”

Amina shrugged. “Yousef consults the leaders of the other temples on occasion, but only when something important happens. When Omar saw the obelisk being unearthed, Yousef warned the other temples. But that was the only time in the last decade that we had need to contact them.” She snorted derisively. “We are all so worried about our own problems, we rarely have time for each other.”

“What if we could change that? What if you could help us, and we could help you? What if you could help each other?”

Amina patted her hand. “Good luck, dear. Unfortunately, we have enough to deal with here without taking on your problems.”

“All our problems can become bigger,” Chloe reminded her. “All our problems can become someone else’s problem. Yousef was in Paris because your problem came to our backyard. He stayed in Paris because your problem became our problem. And my friends and I are in Egypt with you now because one of our problems became your problem.”

Amina nodded and patted her arm. “I do understand all of that, dear. I only hope you can convince the others.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Foul” (pronounced “fool”) is a traditional Egyptian breakfast.
> 
> Both the Beirut peace conference and the suicide bombing the day before it are historical events. The challenge in incorporating actual history/current events into any story is to do the facts justice without trampling on the actual people involved. Hence in WWII, Night Bat incites Hitler, while in WWI he isn’t “supporting” any particular side – because there isn’t a “hero” or “villain” in WWI.


	9. Egypt Chapter 3

Alix unpacked her equipment onto her bed, checking over each piece to make sure it had all survived the trip – even if it was just through a portal. Although she had charged the batteries on her field hockey stick before packing it, one had already run down somehow – something must have touched the control button when she packed it. She frowned and glanced up at Turing, who was hovering over the nightstand. “Can you send Max a message? There might be an issue with the battery for my stick’s handle.”

Turing bobbed once and moved closer to scan the stick. “I do not see any issues,” he told her momentarily. “If you can live with it for tonight, Max will check it over tomorrow.”

She shrugged. “I’ll charge it on the way there just in case. But if I actually need to tase someone, it probably means we failed.” Fortunately, her helmet’s built-in communicator was working just fine, as were her skates. Those would be the two things she needed the most on this mission.

She was just flexing her elbow pads when a knock on the door drew her attention. Omar was standing in the doorway watching her. “It is time for the two of us to leave,” he explained in English.

“Is Sent-Bee not coming with us?” she asked, glancing behind him and not seeing anyone there.

He shook his head. “Dad arranged for her to talk to the Council and the only time that would work for all four of the others – at least before next month – was this evening. We are on our own, but I do not think we will need help for this.”

“Two will be enough,” Alix agreed. She picked up her helmet and followed him up the stairs to the underground parking area with Turing hovering next to her head. The lights turned on automatically as they entered, and Omar led her to a nondescript brown sedan close to the exit tunnel. His Kwami – a creature with a curly tail whose skin was a mix of green, yellow, and brown that shifted slightly as he moved – dropped to sit on the center console between their seats. Once they had their seatbelts on, Omar drove across the parking area to a spot at the end of a tunnel, lit up with white lights on the floor. He pressed a button on the car’s dashboard, and the platform on which the car was parked began to lift up into the ceiling. The ceiling opened up, leaving their car inside a small building that looked like a shed or a garage. Another button opened the garage door, and they drove out into an alley with a restaurant on one side and a hotel on the other.

“Impressive,” Alix observed, nodding.

“The construction is far more elaborate than I calculated to be possible,” Turing chirped.

“When the city built up around us we needed a way to get out and travel,” Omar explained. “Not everything happens near the Sphinx, and none of our miraculous are particularly adept at traveling. Mom’s miraculous lets her break through solid objects, and mine lets me transform into another person, but neither of those grants any kind of speed. Unfortunately, we do not have the Cheetah here.”

Alix shrugged and examined the car’s interior. “An Impala works just fine!” she joked.

“Tell me,” he asked, glancing at her as he merged into the traffic through downtown Cairo, “how did you come to be part of the Heroes of Paris when you have no miraculous?”

“As if I need a miraculous to be awesome,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “At least half my friends are miraculous heroes, and I was in the right place at the right time to save one of them from a bear,” she explained. “What about you? You grew up at the temple?”

Omar nodded. “This is all I have ever known,” he replied. “Krypp’s previous holder was killed just after I was born. Rather than recruit another holder, the Guardian allowed my parents to keep the miraculous in reserve until I was old enough to receive it. I suppose you could say that all my friends growing up were Kwamis!”

The three-hour drive passed fairly quickly as they continued to talk. Alix discovered that Omar’s only interactions outside of the temple had come from playing football with some of the kids his age in Cairo and that _he_ was even more of a football fan than _she_ was. He spent nearly the last hour of the drive complaining about Egypt’s embarrassingly-poor performance at the World Cup.

When they arrived at the Suez Canal, Alix hid her helmet, threw a blanket over Turing and her field hockey stick, and tried to look bored as Omar talked his way through the guard station. For perhaps the first time in her life, she actually wished that she had taken her father up on his offer to teach her Arabic – at least then she might be able to follow what they were saying. Whatever story Omar told the guard, he obviously accepted it, as he waved them through without giving Alix more than a passing glance. “What did you tell him?” she asked when they were safely through.

“That you are a wanted terrorist here to blow up the docks,” he replied calmly, pulling through, turning onto a side street, and finding a spot to hide the car between two warehouses set alongside the loading/unloading dock, with the security offices on the other side. Seeing her doubtful look he laughed. “I said that we are here to check out a faulty light.”

She grinned. “I hoped you weren’t that crazy!” She was about to open her door when he held out a hand to stop her.

“Krypp, Tail up,” he muttered, transforming. “Camouflage!”

Alix stared in shock as his facial features seemed to melt and bubble. His nose elongated, his eyes moved closer together, his lips thinned, his complexion shifted, and wrinkles appeared around his eyes and mouth. His hair changed color and receded into his scalp. He shrunk a couple centimeters in height, and his arms and legs seemed to retract slightly into his body. His miraculous suit morphed into a copy of the security uniform the guard had been wearing. Alix put on her helmet and shook her head. “Well _that_ was definitely the weirdest thing I’ve seen in the last four days!”

“We have five minutes to do this,” Harba told her, unperturbed.

“Right.” Sk8r Girl kicked her door open and slipped into the shadow of the warehouse, Turing hovering next to her head. Harba got out more slowly, stretched his arms and legs, and walked down to the end of the warehouse. He turned to the left and was gone in an instant. “I really hope these communicators are syncing up right,” she commented after he turned the corner.

“I hear you just fine,” Harba replied.

“I told you it would work,” Pegasus commented over the communicator. “According to the shipping manifests, the container we need to track is located on the main transfer yard, in a stack on the outside west edge. It is the second container up, three in from the north.”

Sk8r Girl smacked her shoes together to deploy her skates and shot down the alley in the opposite direction from where Harba had gone, Turing keeping up with her easily. They had timed their visit for late at night, and the sun was almost entirely down, throwing long shadows across the entire canal complex. On reaching the end of the alley she leaned into a sharp turn toward the sunset and sped alongside rows upon rows of shipping containers, stacked three high and five deep, with two rows together and a small lane before the next two rows. Turing flew in front of Sk8r Girl and activated his holographic projector, showing her the location of the container in question. Near the far end of the yard she turned down the last lane and plunged into shadows, broken up by small slits of sunlight peeking between the crates. Midway down the lane she stopped, opposite where Turing showed the container to be. There was a tiny gap between the containers, barely enough to allow the rays from the setting sun to filter through.

“If I’m right, the container we want is opposite this one,” she said, pointed at the middle container. “And we can’t get to it on the outside without being seen.”

“I have an extension on my sensor,” Turing told her. “I could fly over it and find a gap to feed the wire through!”

Sk8r Girl frowned and furrowed her brows. “What if you get spotted?” she asked. She looked down at her feet and started. “Give me a second…” Concentrating on the mouse huddling next to one of the containers she said, “Hey, little guy. What are you up do?”

The mouse turned to stare up at her, dropping the grain in its paws in shock. “I–I was just looking for food for my family,” it squeaked, eyes darting to the containers on either side of the lane.

Sk8r Girl reached into her backpack and pulled out a box of crackers. “Tell you what, if you and your family help me out, this is yours,” she told him, shaking the box for emphasis. She carefully unsealed the box and pulled out a cracker, which she set down in front of the mouse.

“Really?” it asked, wide-eyed, taking a bite out of the cracker. Turning to the container next to it, the mouse started squeaking so fast Sk8r Girl couldn’t understand anything it said. Soon the mouse was joined by a dozen other mice smaller than itself.

“Okay,” Sk8r Girl instructed them, clapping her hands to get their attention. She nodded for Turing to extend his sensor. “You see this container? I need you to find a gap in the container _next_ to this one and feed this wire into it. If you can find a way to get inside the container, that would be even better.”

Chattering excitedly, the mice raced up the sides of the container and through the space separating it from the container next to it. The first mouse carefully took the sensor wire in its mouth and raced along after the others.

“Here’s the right container!”

“I found a gap in the doorway!”

“This side is almost rusted through here!”

Sk8r Girl looked up at Turing, who had risen in the air to hover next to the second container off the ground and was whirring softly. “Well?” she prompted.

“I am receiving data,” reported Pegasus. Sk8r Girl could hear him typing in the background. “There are a number of wooden shipping crates inside. The computer is analyzing the scan data of the contents for patterns.”

Squeaking drew Sk8r Girl’s attention to the spot where the mice had disappeared. The first mouse was crouching on the edge of a container, folding his hands in front of his face. “We found a space just large enough for my smallest pup to get inside,” he announced.

“That’s awesome!” Sk8r Girl replied, grinning. She snapped her fingers at Turing, who approached the mouse and opened a compartment on the bottom of his chassis. “We have some small trackers. Can your pup put one on each of the crates inside of the container? Then there’s one a little bigger to place on the bottom of the container, inside the lip where the metal is folded back on itself.”

The mouse stuffed a dozen objects the size of a grain of rice into his cheeks, placed the larger capsule in his mouth, and disappeared through the gap once more. Turing continued to whir contemplatively as he processed the information.

“I am reading the trackers,” Pegasus finally stated. “Signal strength is within parameters. Coupled with tracking the ship and container, I calculate 80% chance of success.”

“My sensors show the trackers in inconspicuous locations just inside the base of the crates,” Turing reported, beeping excitedly. “The mice did it!”

Pegasus hummed contemplatively. “If the scan data is accurate, there is something non-terrestrial inside one of the crates, but I am unsure what.”

“Do we need to take a look right now?” Sk8r Girl asked.

“Sk8r Girl, you could have trouble,” warned Harba. “Two guards are making their rounds and just turned toward the loading yard on the north side. I stalled them as long as I could but they may reach you in under a minute.”

“Shoot,” she muttered, looking up at Turing. The robot could probably hide above the containers, but she couldn’t. A glance up and down the lane failed to show any possible hiding spots. However, looking up she saw a small flock of sandpipers wheeling on the breeze. “Hey!” she shouted, waving her arm and pointing to the far end of the lane. “Mind distracting a couple security guards for me!?!”

Without a word, the sandpipers dove between the containers and swept through the lane. As they reached the end, they all spread their wings as wide as they could, chirping excitedly. At the same moment Sk8r Girl jumped and deployed her skates, shooting in the opposite direction. Turing quickly retracted his sensor wire and joined her. She called behind her to the mice, “Thanks for your help! You definitely earned your crackers!”


	10. Egypt Chapter 4

It was the evening of their first full day in Egypt, and Chloe stood in the room full of futuristic technology that had somehow been built around the fall of Atlantis. When Max had come out of this room after visiting it in the morning, he had been positively giddy with excitement. Of course, this was his kind of thing. Chloe tapped her foot impatiently while waiting for Yousef to activate the device that would allow her to speak with the leaders of the various African Miraculous Temples. _How did standing in a room under the Sphinx that comes straight out of a sci-fi movie become just another Tuesday?_

At last Yousef dragged a silver device shaped like a lima bean sitting on a pedestal away from the far wall and situated it in the center of the room. Chloe took her place a meter away from the device where he indicated to stand. Yousef rested his hand on the side of the pedestal, and the device began to glow a faint blue. He stepped back to stand beside Chloe as shimmery images began to appear around the device.

The first to appear was a woman no older than Chloe herself, tall and slender with chocolate-colored skin. “Mihaela holds the paired miraculous to my own,” Yousef explained, “the Lion. Rugindo Leoa, ‘the Roaring Lioness.’ Her temple is far to the south, in Angola. The holders of the Lion and Scarab are usually considered the leaders among the African Miraculous Council, similar to your Ladybug and Cat Noir.”

Next was an older woman with almond skin and white hair. “That is Aïda, the holder of the Parrot Miraculous,” Yousef whispered. “She is the oldest member of our Council, followed by myself. She calls herself Hakɛto, ‘Please.’ Her temple is in Mali, west of us.”

A man with mahogany skin appeared next and showed some surprise on seeing Chloe. “Mohamed’s temple in Somalia is the next-closest to this one,” Yousef told her. “He has struggled for years to maintain some peace in his region as Maroodiga Cawlan, ‘the Gray Elephant,’ but his team has been greatly overwhelmed by the number of conflicts – as have we all, for that matter.”

The final image was that of a man around Chloe’s age with lightly-tanned skin and blond hair. Yousef whispered, “The youngest member of our Council is Willem, who holds the Scorpion Miraculous: Angel, ‘the Stinger.’ His temple is on Madagascar, but he grew up in South Africa.”

Chloe nodded her thanks and looked at the four images arrayed around the lima bean-shaped projector. By comparison to the holographic projectors that Max had developed by incorporating human and alien technology, these images were much clearer and more sharply defined. In fact, they almost looked as real as if Rena Rouge had created them with Mirage. The people in the images were all staring between her and Yousef with a mixture of confusion, surprise, and curiosity. “What happens now?” she whispered.

Yousef took a step forward and addressed the others. “Friends, I thank you for agreeing to this meeting,” he began. “You may recall I alerted you to the discovery of the Amun obelisk several months ago by a French archaeological team. A consequence of my trip to France to recover it was that I came into contact with the Heroes of Paris. Their leaders, Ladybug and Cat Noir, asked for my help in combating a new evil in their city – a man with a team of miraculous users on his side. They sent three of their own to assist my team. They also wished to take the opportunity to meet the other members of the African Miraculous Council. This is Chloe, a member of their Council, who speaks on their behalf.”

Chloe took a deep breath and stepped forward, examining the faces around her. Growing up the daughter of a politician, she had picked up a few things about reading people and manipulating them. For now, she needed to appear strong – from the looks on the faces examining her, at least three of them wouldn’t respond well if she showed weakness. “Thank you, Yousef,” she responded, drawing herself up to her full height and tossing her hair confidently. “I am Chloe Bourgeois, and I am a Hero of Paris. For one and a half years I was Queen Bee and used the Bee Miraculous to fight against Hawk Moth and his Akumas to protect my city. After his defeat, I fought against a number of different enemies with my team, until one of those enemies captured me and stole my miraculous. I resisted him, fought my way out, and since then I have been fighting without my miraculous, working to bring down the people who stole my miraculous and put it in the hands of someone who will use it to hurt people.”

“Are your people looking for our help in recovering your miraculous?” asked Mohamed dubiously. Chloe was surprised to see that his lips were not moving in sync with the words he spoke.

Chloe scoffed. “As if! That bitch is mine! _I_ am going to get back my miraculous and kick the Killer Bee-tch’s ass and everyone she is working with for everything they have done!” she retorted. “We are not looking for any of you to come to Paris. I understand how much work you have in your own areas, and we are not seeking to increase your workload by asking you to do _our_ job for us.”

“So what are you asking of us?” Mihaela asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“We want to make friends,” Chloe replied, forcing herself to give her a small smile. “We have already started working with the American Miraculous Team; two of their members have been in Paris for several months assisting us in tracking down two of their miraculous which were stolen from them.”

“The other team that is working with you had miraculous stolen?” Willem’s eyebrows shot up in shock.

Chloe groaned inwardly. She was not a diplomat. She was used to being direct: tell people what to do and they jump to obey. But here it seemed like every word she said was wrong.

“Is this team from Europe and America trying to tell us how to do things?” demanded Mohamed, glaring at Chloe suspiciously. “We do not need another European coming in to push us around!” His eyes darted to Willem.

“Excuse me,” Willem retorted. “My predecessor fought hard against that prejudice, trying to find a middle ground for the Guardians to walk in the wake of Apartheid. He brought the first Afrikaners into the Temple in order to bridge that gap.”

“Wait!” Chloe replied quickly, holding up her hands in a sign of peace. “We have no desire to tell you how to do anything! We want to help you when our problems become your problems, and we want you to help us when your problems become ours! I have learned more about Atlantis from the Egyptian temple than I ever imagined – I did not know Atlantis was _real_ until a few months ago! But here is something I know firsthand. Did you know there are more miraculous out there than in our sets? That there is an Atlantean Miraculous Set? That the Atlantean Set got lost and scattered?” Chloe glared at Mohamed before turning her gaze on the other three.

“The Atlantean records show that their miraculous were on the island when it was destroyed,” acknowledged Aïda. “We have no records of where they went from there.”

“I can tell you where four of them are,” Chloe replied heatedly. “Paris. Three of them are in the hands of my team and our friends. The fourth is in the hands of a man who has used the Bat Miraculous to spread corruption across the globe for a millennium – and as far as we know a thousand years of Guardians knew nothing about him. Of our three, one was found on a sunken pirate ship by a man who used it to steal and hurt people on three continents before _my team_ stopped him! Who knows how many more are out there?”

“So what do you propose?” Aïda asked calmly.

Chloe took a breath and released it slowly. “My team wishes to coordinate with you,” She explained once she had calmed down. “I am here now because my team believes that our Lynchpin is smuggling drugs through the Suez Canal. If we are going to stop his flow of drugs, we need to start in Egypt.”

“Your ‘Lynchpin’ sounds like a French problem,” Mohamed observed. He frowned apologetically. “I am sorry, but I have enough to worry about in my own region without taking on a French problem.”

“ _Ridicule_ ,” Chloe muttered. “That is exactly what _we_ thought when he first showed up,” she retorted louder. “We thought he was just a Paris problem. But then we found his feelers starting to creep all over the globe. He may be based in Paris, but he is spreading. His people clashed with my friends in America. His people are already smuggling through Egypt. Our problem could become _your_ problem next.”

“Do you want us to come to Paris and fight your enemy?” asked Willem. “Like Mohamed, my team is too small and my region too troubled to help you.”

“We would not ask you to abandon your own responsibilities,” Chloe assured him. “Think of it this way: if we find out Lynchpin is doing something on Madagascar, we will warn you so you can stop him before he causes any major trouble for you. If you find out about a warlord fleeing to Europe to avoid prosecution, you can let us know and we will beat his ass and wrap him up with a bow and drop him through a portal back home. And if you ever happen to visit Paris, our Headquarters has about a dozen guest rooms where you can stay while you are in town.”

Aïda cleared her throat. “What you are asking sounds perfectly reasonable,” she said. “When the African Miraculous Guardians divided their miraculous among the five temples, their intent was to keep the miraculous safe. Their intent was not to create a rift between us, with five small temples worrying about themselves and their own problems and ignoring the rest of the continent.”

Yousef clapped his hands for attention, and Chloe stepped back out of his way. He announced, “I have had several opportunities to examine ‘Amun’s’ memories of his defeat since he was released and bonded to his new host – who is a member of these Heroes of Paris. One fact struck me above all others: he was defeated by _all_ the African Miraculous. It was not just the Egyptian temple, or the Somali temple. It was representatives from _all_ our temples banding together against a common threat greater than any of them individually could have faced. The Roaring Lion of the day dealt him the fatal blow after the Great Scarab immobilized him psychically. And it was a Ladybug who imprisoned him. Now a Ladybug is asking us to work together with her once again.”

Mohamed and Willem both started talking at once, and Chloe tuned the argument out. She knew she should have refused this assignment and forced Marinette to come and do this herself. Chloe Bourgeois was not a diplomat. Chloe Bourgeois cowed weak-willed people into doing her bidding. But no one here was weak enough to give in to her form of persuasion. “Look,” she finally interrupted, cutting off Willem as he was about to respond to something Mihaela had said, “you cannot just hide away in your temples and hope the world passes you by! Two miraculous fell into the wrong hands and were used to terrorize my city for two years. Now there is a man who controls a team with three evil miraculous users, alongside people who have been trained their whole lives to fight _against_ miraculous users. There are other miraculous out there, not all of them in the right hands, and we cannot ignore them. We must work together.”

Mihaela looked gravely around the assembly before looking Chloe in the eye and announcing, “If there is a way for my temple to help you, we will.”

Aïda spoke up next. “We do need to work together more.”

Mohamed sighed. “If both Jueran Eazim and Ruginda Leoa are in favor of working with the Heroes of Paris, I will accept their reasoning.”

Last, Willem said, “In that case, I will abide by the majority decision.”

Chloe let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knowing the other two miraculous at each of the temples isn’t necessary to this story, but I do want to mention that the other two at the Angola temple are the Meerkat and Warthog.
> 
> “Hakɛto” is in Bambara, one of the national languages of Mali. Unfortunately I couldn’t find a good Bambara translator online, so I made do with what I had.


	11. Interdiction Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Heroes of Paris start acting on their information to stop Lynchpin's flow of drugs

Carapace stood in the center of the butterfly garden with the rest of his team. Pegasus was still in his lab monitoring the boat’s progress. This was it: he and Alya had gotten the information in Lisbon that led them to this shipping container. Chloe and Alix had tagged the container. Now, his team would go in and stop the container from reaching its final destination – a Lynchpin warehouse somewhere in Paris.

Around him, the rest of his team was joking around. King Monkey and Geber were sparring playfully, while Ryoku shook her head at their antics. Carapace had to admit, Geber was making better use of his spur since Ryoku started working with him; maybe they should have including Ryoku in the new heroes’ training regimen from the beginning!

Pegasus stepped out of his lab and jogged over to them. “According to Turing, there are twelve men on the deck,” he reported. “I will place you directly over where the boat will be in thirty seconds. Once you secure the objective, Captain Raincomprix will have his men ready to take custody on shore.” With that, punched down at the ground in front of him and shouted, “Voyage!”

A portal appeared centimeters above the ground and spread to a diameter around two meters. Without hesitating, Carapace jumped through, drawing his shield from his back. Geber and King Monkey followed him immediately, and they found themselves falling from the sky ten meters over the Seine, directly above the deck of a fishing boat. Carapace could see around a dozen men standing on the deck holding fishing poles; if he didn’t know any better, he probably would have assumed this was nothing but a charter for a group of friends. But Sk8r Girl’s trackers were below the boat’s deck.

Carapace bent his knees as he hit the deck to cushion the landing, and had his shield up between himself and the closest group of men in a flash. Geber and King Monkey landed to either side of him before anyone reacted. Then everyone on the boat’s deck dropped their fishing poles and drew pistols from their waists. “Shell-ter!” Carapace shouted, and a green force-field bubble appeared around the three heroes, moments before a dozen energy beams lanced out at them from all sides.

“I think we got the right boat!” King Monkey observed, raising an eyebrow. “I almost feel sorry for these dudes.”

“Almost,” agreed Geber, smirking.

Carapace grinned as an enormous tidal wave grew out of the water behind the boat, towering fifteen meters above the waterline. A couple of the thugs near the front of the boat stopped firing on catching sight of the wave behind their companions, their jaws dropping open in shock.

Before they could escape, however, the wave crashed to the deck as Ryoku dropped through the closing portal. She landed on the boat at the same moment that the wave crashed around her and over the Shell-ter, spreading her arms and sending the wave tearing through the ranks of Lynchpin’s goons. Most of those on the deck were washed overboard on both sides of the boat as the wave crashed and spread in both directions. A trio of thugs managed to maintain their footing despite the water and turned their guns on Ryoku. One managed a shot, which she easily deflected back at him before stabbing her sword into the deck and calling, “Lightning Dragon!” Electricity shot out from the sword tip in all directions through the water still pooling ankle-deep on the deck, and the three men still standing convulsed before falling to the ground.

“So that just happened,” King Monkey commented, shaking his head. “Why did you need the rest of us again?”

“Because you make such a useful distraction!” Ryoku called, tugging her sword out of the deck.

Carapace chuckled as he dropped the Shell-ter. “She’s got you there, KM,” he pointed out, nodding for the others to fan out. King Monkey and Ryoku raced to the pilothouse while Carapace threw open the hatch to the lower deck. Before he could go down and inspect the cargo, six enemies charged up the stairs, almost bowling him over. The first one up aimed a rifle at Carapace, who brought his shield around just in time to catch the first energy beam. The energy dissipated over the surface of the shield, which started to heat up against Carapace’s miraculous gloves. The remaining five fanned out across the deck.

“Miraculous abusers!” a woman in brown robes shouted, throwing a wad of something grey at Carapace’s back. Carapace grimaced: four miraculous users… and they had a Dark Acolyte with them. “Your corruption of this universe ends now!”

“Not today!” King Monkey jumped between Carapace and the Dark Acolyte and caught the glob of chi-putty in his hand. Carapace could see his mouth moving imperceptibly as he strained against the chi-putty.

Carapace swung his shield out to strike the gunman firing at him, dropped to the ground, and swept the man’s legs out from under him. Before the man had even slammed to the deck, Carapace was already up and moving. He evaded another chi-putty pellet that stuck to the wall behind him and closed the distance with the Dark Acolyte, who raised her quarterstaff to parry a horizontal sweep from Carapace’s shield. Carapace allowed the Acolyte’s counterattack to glance off the rounded face of his shield and punched her in the chest. She raised an arm to block his punch, sprang away from him, and threw a bolas at his feet. Carapace jumped over the bolas, allowing it to skip across the deck and wrap around the railing.

The Acolyte landed next to King Monkey and reached up to grab his circlet.

“U–Uph-roar!” King Monkey mumbled without moving his lips. At once he relaxed and swept the Acolyte’s feet out from under her, her eyes wide in shock.

Before she had hit the ground, the Acolyte turned, planted her palm on the deck, and cartwheeled back to her feet against the boat’s railing. She held her staff in front of her chest, glaring at the heroes.

“I am _really_ glad that works, dude,” Carapace observed, raising his shield without taking his eyes off the Acolyte.

“You’re telling _me_ ,” King Monkey agreed with a grimace, wiping the inert chi-putty off his hand and twisting his neck to either side. He swung his staff to knock one of the other thugs to the deck.

Out of the corner of his eye, Carapace saw Ryoku fighting a trio of the remaining thugs who had her pinned inside the pilothouse. Geber was battling the last man near the front of the boat. The three in the pilothouse all shot at Ryoku simultaneously, and she turned to air at the same moment. The men stopped in confusion, only for her to reappear between them and slice their rifles in half in a single slash. Geber punched his opponent, who fell off the boat into the river.

On seeing this, the Acolyte glared at Carapace and declared, “This isn’t the end, miraculous abuser!” Then she threw a smoke bomb to the ground and dove over the side of the boat.

Carapace looked around. His teammates were all still standing, and they appeared to be alone on the boat. And despite breathing heavily from exertion, they were unharmed. Finally he let out a quiet sigh. He glanced up at the whirring rotors above him to find Turing descending from his position several meters above the boat, where he had been hiding from the thugs’ view in the glare from the sun. The robot moved straight for the hatch to the lower deck. “Nice work, dudes!” Carapace told the others.

King Monkey nodded and leaned against the railing, scanning the river surface for any sign of the criminals who’d been washed overboard.

Geber was standing with Ryoku near the pilothouse, looking over the controls with a confused look on his face. Ryoku pushed past him and grabbed the wheel. “Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ryoku gave him a deadpan look and turned the key to restart the engine. “First, Bird-Brain, you _pilot_ a boat,” she told him. “Second, of everyone here, which one of us actually controls water?” She nodded to the dock on the far bank of the river where a trio of police cars were waiting for them. “Go get ready to throw the lines ashore when we get closer.”

Satisfied that the others were on top of things, Carapace descended the steps into the lower deck of the boat to find Turing already in the process of scanning the shipping container. Carapace pulled a tracker off the side of one crate and stowed it in a compartment on his belt. “What have we got, little dude?” he asked Turing.

“I have scanned the contents, and these are definitely from the container we located in Egypt,” Turing chirped. “My scan indicates that this crate contains heroin as well as the same unidentified extraterrestrial object. Shall I open it?”

Carapace nodded, and Turing extended an instrument from his chest, activating a circular saw and placing it against the side of the crate. In a matter of moments he had cut a hole large enough for Carapace to fit his hand through. Brushing aside the bags of drugs, Carapace found a small object wrapped in cloth which just barely fit out of the hole. He pulled the cloth away from it to find a small silvery metal object with a few wires and tubes sticking out of it at odd angles.

“Based on the objects we have already analyzed, this is consistent with the other extraterrestrial artifacts in terms of construction,” Turing explained helpfully, directing his camera at the object.

“Are you seeing this, Pegasus?” Carapace asked, staring at it in confusion.

“Affirmative,” Pegasus replied over their communicators. “We should not allow this to be catalogued with the other contraband – we cannot risk Lynchpin recovering it. Are there any other alien artifacts in the other crates?”

“Negative,” reported Turing after performing another scan.

A small portal opened next to Carapace, and Pegasus reached through it. Carapace handed him the alien object and tracker. Turing flew through the portal a moment before it closed. With a rueful sigh, Carapace climbed back up on deck to find Captain Raincomprix and a handful of police officers in the process of handcuffing the criminals still onboard the boat. “There are several crates full of heroin down in the hold,” he explained as Raincomprix straightened up and looked at him. “A number of the bad guys went overboard.”

Raincomprix nodded and gestured to the police patrol boat just rounding the bend from upriver. “Not to worry, Carapace,” he assured him. “We’ve got it under control from here. Thanks for taking care of the hard part for us!”

“We’re always happy to help out, Captain!”


	12. Interdiction Chapter 2

The Seine was calm, with very little other river traffic visible as the tour boat appeared on the screen, moving slowly against the current. The sun was just to the boat’s port side, casting a strong glare onto the deck. Based on available data, this boat would dock next to a warehouse one kilometer upriver from this point, where the cargo would be unloaded for temporary storage. Pegasus pressed a button to send Turing the appropriate command, and the robot, hidden from the guards’ view in the sun, zoomed in until the boat’s deck filled the screen. There were fifteen men and women on the deck, all affecting a forced casualness at odds with their cover as tourists ostensibly out for a boat tour of Paris, all staring in opposite directions away from the boat.

“Captain Raincomprix,” Pegasus reported into his communicator, “the boat will enter the ambush zone momentarily. Are your officers in place?”

“Just getting into position now,” Raincomprix responded. “I have two pontoon boats upriver under the bridge and units concealed on either side of the river.”

“The operation will commence in one minute,” Pegasus told him before muting the communicator. He tore his eyes away from the screen and stepped around Impératrice Pourpre toward the lab door. In the butterfly garden, Rena Rouge, Anansi, Viperion, and Multiplice were waiting for him. Rena Rouge already had a glowing white Mirage ball on the end of her flute.

“Ten seconds,” Impératrice Pourpre announced over the communicator.

“Are you prepared?” Pegasus asked the team. Seeing their nods, he concentrated on the location, punched downward, and shouted, “Voyage!” A portal appeared centimeters above the grass and expanded to a diameter of three meters. Through the portal he could see the prow of the boat, directly below them.

No sooner had the portal opened than Rena Rouge wound up and threw her Mirage ball through it. The ball resolved just above the water surface into four police boats which appeared on all sides of the tour boat. As Pegasus watched, the men and women on the boat’s deck raced to the railings on all sides, drawing energy pistols from under their shirts. By this time the boat’s top deck was centered beneath the portal, and the four heroes all jumped through the portal together. The moment they were through, Pegasus closed the portal and de-transformed.

“So far so good,” reported Impératrice Pourpre as Max caught Kaalki in his hand and picked up the bag of apple slices he had placed in advance for this purpose. Kaalki tore into the bag and had swallowed the first slice whole before he made it back into the lab.

“A girl could get used to this,” Kaalki commented, tossing the next slice in the air and catching it in her mouth. “Drop a few heroes through a portal, eat, drop a few heroes through a portal, eat… All the fun and hardly any work.”

Max smirked. “You just enjoy the attention,” he told her.

“Well, without _me_ – and you, of course – this plan would never work!” she replied, puffing out her chest.

He shook his head and patted her mane affectionately. “If you are ready?” When the Kwami nodded, he called, “Kaalki, Full gallop,” and transformed. He stepped up beside Impératrice Pourpre in front of the screen showing Turing’s camera feed. “What did I miss?” he asked.

Impératrice Pourpre shrugged. “Thus far everything has gone according to plan,” she informed him. “The Mirage threw them into confusion, but it only lasted half a minute before someone managed to hit it and it dissolved. The team landed in the center of the deck just before the Mirage disappeared, and that separated the guards into smaller groups.”

Nodding, Pegasus examined the screen closely. Rena Rouge and Anansi were on the main deck, standing back to back and surrounded by almost a dozen of Lynchpin’s guards. Viperion was not visible on the screen, but the shadows moving inside the pilothouse indicated that he was engaged in his part of the plan, working to secure control of the boat from Lynchpin’s pilot and those with him. Multiplice had found the hatch to the boat’s lower deck and was just in the process of multiplying to slip through and confirm that the cargo was there. With everything happening at once, it was a pity Turing’s cameras could not track all of his teammates simultaneously.

Pegasus’ eye was drawn back to the foredeck by a splash as Anansi kicked one of the guards in the chest, knocking him over the railing and into the river. The man behind her jumped on her back, but Rena Rouge grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulled him off Anansi, and slammed him to the deck. Anansi jerked the guns out of two more guards’ hands, threw them into the water, punched the first guard, and elbowed the second in the gut.

Thumbing the control on his communicator, Pegasus called Captain Raincomprix. “Five suspects have fallen into the river,” he reported. “I see two swimming for the north bank, three for the south.”

“My men will pick them up,” Raincomprix assured him.

Pegasus switched channels on his communicator. “Multiplice, what is the situation in the hold?” he asked.

“There were a bunch of bad guys waiting for me,” she announced breathlessly.

“Do you require backup?”

“I don’t think so,” Multiplice answered. “But there are a couple of Dark Acolytes down here.”

“Well, there’s one up here, too,” grunted Anansi. As Pegasus watched, a woman jumped back away from Anansi, but not quick enough to avoid Anansi grabbing her by the leg. Anansi swung her around once and threw her off the boat and into the water. The Dark Acolyte, identifiable by the quarterstaff she wielded, struck a glancing blow to Anansi’s head, but Rena Rouge hit her across the back with her flute. The Acolyte, who looked familiar, stumbled under the blow, giving Anansi an opening to push her over the railing and into the water. The guard Rena Rouge had thrown to the deck rolled over.

“Rena, the man directly behind you on the ground is about to grab your ankle,” Pegasus told her. In response, Rena Rouge kicked backward, catching the guard in the face. Though Turing was not capturing audio, Pegasus could almost hear the man’s groan as his nose broke.

At that moment the boat’s hatch opened and a full-size Multiplice stuck her hand out to wave. Pegasus gave the command, and Turing descended into the interior of the boat. The robot activated a light, illuminating six shipping crates as well as ten unconscious guards, two of whom wore the robes of Dark Acolytes of the Mundane. Several of the guard had smoldering holes in their clothing, and smoke rose from where the walls and crates had been struck by energy.

“How–?”

“It’s amazing what you can do when they can barely see you,” Multiplice interrupted, giggling.

“I told you she could handle it!” Impératrice Pourpre joked, leaning into Pegasus’ side.

Pegasus shook his head ruefully and gave Turing a command. An attachment extended from the robot’s body, and a parallel image to the one he was watching on the screen appeared on the second screen below it. The color spectrum shifted rapidly, and the image resolved to show packages of something. Turing moved to hover in front of each crate in turn, and the scan images all shows the same type of packages. “Analyze,” Pegasus instructed.

“Based on the scan, the chemical composition is consistent with cocaine,” responded Turing.

Pegasus nodded. No extraterrestrial material in this shipment, but they prevented yet more of Lynchpin’s illegal drugs from being sold. That, in itself, was cause for celebration. “Rena, what is your situation?” he asked.

“Everything’s shipshape up here,” she replied with a snort of laughter. “Viperion is bringing us in now.”

“Thank you.” Pegasus switched channels. “Captain Raincomprix, the boat is secure. Your people may take custody as soon as it reaches the dock.” He took Impératrice Pourpre’s hand, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. He smiled and let out a sigh of relief. Another successful mission.

“I know the goal isn’t to make my Dad look good,” she murmured, “but I appreciate it all the same.”

“I am grateful that we have a friend on the police force,” Pegasus replied, grinning. Although he, Alya, and Sabrina and worked through the Prefecture several times and identified several definite moles, he still could not rule out the presence of more.

“Dad has suggested a few times that I should apply to the police academy after graduation next year,” she confided. “I was all set to, even. Right up until this year. Then Chloe handed me the Butterfly Miraculous and everything changed.” She frowned. “It would be too much of a conflict of interest for me to be both a member of the Heroes of Paris _and_ a police officer, right?”

“It could be,” he admitted, squeezing her hand. “And while another friend in the Prefecture would certainly be appreciated, that would also take away from your free time for the Heroes. You have already done so much good with the Heroes of Paris, it is difficult to imagine that you could do _more_ as a police officer.”

She laughed. “I didn’t do all that much today,” she replied.

“On other occasions you have done more,” he agreed. “All the same, I appreciate your company, even when Markov is already here!”

She smiled. “Speaking of company, Mom wants to know why I still haven’t brought you over for dinner, considering that your mother has been away almost as long as we’ve been dating,” she told him. “So now you have an open invitation to come over… any evening you’re not already busy down here!”

Pegasus schooled his features and tried to smile. Impératrice Pourpre gave him a look, and he flushed. On some occasions having an empathic girlfriend was _not_ ideal…

She giggled. “Whatever evening you do come over, I will make sure Dad isn’t cleaning his sidearm on the kitchen table when we walk through the door!” she assured him.

Pegasus smiled a little more easily and chuckled. “I suppose if that is the case, I can leave my horseshoe at home!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the “Interdiction Arc” – the goal was simply to show how the plan goes right for the Heroes. Of course, it can’t always go right; the next one is when the villains start to react...


	13. Interlude 2

Max stroked his chin while reading the computer screen intently. They had allowed two of Lynchpin’s shipments to be delivered, their cargo having been scanned and tagged by the teams in Egypt and Panama while waiting for transfer to different container ships. The display on the screen showed the locations of those trackers, a series of warehouses spread along the Paris riverfront. Two were ones the Heroes had discovered and placed under surveillance before the operation began; the others they had not known about previously. He furrowed his brows. If the Heroes moved on one of the warehouses at a time, they would tip off Lynchpin that they were watching – each warehouse raid would increase the risk of Lynchpin realizing what they were doing and moving his drugs before they could sweep up the other warehouses. While they could continue to follow the trackers, that would only work if Lynchpin did not discover the trackers or transfer the cargo. And yet, did the Heroes have the ability to carry out simultaneous operations against all seven targets? While they certainly had enough heroes to carry out seven raids – if he brought the team back from Egypt for the operation – what would happen if something went wrong? Would he and Sabrina be able to respond properly to multiple simultaneous crises? Yes, they had succeeded when Ladybug set up her trap in the spring, but it had been a calculated risk, and one that almost failed due to Rena Rouge’s capture: Ladybug’s team had focused on rescuing her and Cat Noir, allowing him and Sabrina to devote the rest of the Heroes’ resources to helping Rena Rouge. But with seven simultaneous Hero operations, what if they ran into trouble on four? Or five? Or–

He allowed himself a chuckle as Sabrina squeezed his hand. “I was panicking again, wasn’t I?”

“Only a little,” she replied, a twinkle in her eye. “And I didn’t even need my miraculous to clue me in!” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Want to talk about it?”

He shrugged. “I am unsure of the best way for us to move forward,” he explained, gesturing to the map. “We cannot move too slowly in raiding these warehouses, but I do not think we can sustain raiding all of them at once.”

She hummed in acknowledgment. “So what do you think we should do?”

He sighed heavily. “I think it is time for us to contact your father,” answered Max, furrowing his brows. “It increases the risk of a Lynchpin mole learning of the plan, but it may be the best option.”

Sabrina giggled. “That’s probably a good idea,” she agreed. “I think he’s ready to do a little more. He said last night that as grateful as he is for the Heroes’ work, he is getting tired of just sitting on the sidelines and watching!”

Max sent a message to Adrien and Marinette: “I have a recommendation.”

Marinette sent an immediate reply: “We’ll be down in a min. With food.”

He showed the response to Sabrina, who raised an eyebrow at him. “Dinnertime already?”

Max grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

She smiled and sat down at the table in front of the newest portal generator prototypes, running a hand along one of the rings. “It’s okay. How is this project coming along? Any new progress?”

In response, Max reattached the cables from the rings to the processor. After the last one had backfired, he had replaced the melted components and installed an additional regulator for the entangled particles. “With this new setup the field is now stable,” he explained. “And the portal fields are communicating with each other correctly.” He pressed the button to activate the system, and it came to life immediately with a hum. A white field glowed inside the ring and shimmered. Max moved one of the rings away from the other, and the image within the stable ring moved while that in the ring he was moving remained constant. “As you can see, it even functions as a window.”

Sabrina waved her hand in front of one ring. The image of her hand showed up inside the other ring. “This is a definite breakthrough!” she enthused, beaming at him.

“I have not tested yet whether sound will pass through the portal,” he told her smiling at seeing her enthusiasm. “Nor have I tested the range, although with quantum entanglement the range should be theoretically limitless.”

“Have you tested transporting things through it?” She leaned over to examine the glowing image more closely.

In response, Max picked up a golf ball and tossed it through one of the portal rings. The golf ball bounced once, passed through the ring mostly intact, and bounced on the other side of the same ring, but with the outer layer melted off, leaving behind a blackened smudge where it landed. Max picked up a paintbrush sitting next to the other ring and swept a fine layer of dust together into a pile. “I need to perform further tests, but less than 0.5% of the object’s mass travels through the portal to pass through the other ring.” He frowned. “I am still unsure what is missing.”

“You said that the Atlanteans combined miraculous magic with technology,” Sabrina pointed out. “Is that what is missing?”

“If it is, then it will be missing for a long time,” he replied, frowning in frustration. “According to Yousef, their technique for integrating miraculous magic with technology was lost with the destruction of Atlantis.”

She patted his arm sympathetically. “For now, at least you have these neat two-way mirror devices!”

Max gave her a small smile and turned off the portal prototypes as Adrien and Marinette entered the lab. Marinette placed a couple bowls of fried rice on the lab table and asked, “What have you got for us?”

Max took one of the bowls and dug into the food. He had been so busy in the lab, he had not realized that it was pass lunchtime! “With your permission,” he explained around a mouthful of food, “I believe it prudent for us to hand over at least some of the next stage of this operation to the Police Prefecture. We have seven targets here, and I think the most effective method for raiding them is to do so with simultaneous operations. Sabrina and I cannot guide so many and respond effectively if too many of them encounter trouble, but the police have sufficient resources, especially with our support.”

“What are the chances that they would face any of Lynchpin’s little minions?” asked Adrien. He grinned and snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up. “‘Lynchpin-ions’!”

Marinette rolled her eyes at him affectionately.

“Less than 15% based on previous operations of the same nature,” Max answered. “He primarily utilizes Mecha-Man and his miraculous users in an _off_ ensive manner rather than _de_ fensive. Surveillance has not shown any of his known super-human assets in the vicinity of the targets since we identified them. Additionally, for as effective as the Dark Acolytes have proven, their utility against non-miraculous users is limited.”

“And if something goes wrong?” Marinette asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sabrina and I will monitor from here,” Max assured her. He hesitated. “I… would also recommend that we allow the police to take over some of the interdiction activities, as well.”

“My dad has said he’s concerned about the Prefecture’s image if the Heroes of Paris are the ones seen doing all the work,” Sabrina supplied. “ _Le Monde_ ran several opinion pieces last week wondering why we have such a large police force when the Heroes of Paris are doing everything while the police sit on the sidelines and watch. _L’Humanité_ actually suggested disbanding the police and leaving it to us.” Marinette stared at her in horror. “That’s just a fringe idea,” Sabrina added quickly. “But I do think the police would appreciate the opportunity to take a more direct approach to the Lynchpin problem themselves. With as little interference from us as possible, unless any ‘ _Lynchpin-ions_ ’ happen to be there.”

Marinette shared a look with Adrien and nodded. “Set it up, guys!”

Once Marinette and Adrien had left, Max sat down on his accustomed stool to finish his fried rice, Sabrina sitting quietly next to him with her own dinner. Absently he picked a few of the carrots out of his bowl for Kaalki. Finally he sighed and withdrew his phone. Finding the correct contact, he called and waited a moment for him to answer.

“Raincomprix.”

“Captain, I have a proposal for you.”


	14. Counterdiction Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Lynchpin respond to the Heroes' raids?

Mecha-Man paced from one end of the warehouse to the other, testing out the newest upgrade to his suit. Antoine had tried to explain how it worked, but he had lost interest in what he was saying the moment he threw in the words “aerodynamic internal hydraulic.” He shrugged: as long as these new boots made it easier for him to move and fight against enemies with enhanced agility like Ladybug and Cat Noir, it was alright by him.

The communications device in his helmet crackled. “So, Gaston, how do they feel?”

“I can definitely feel the difference,” he replied, lifting his foot and rolling the ankle around. “It’s almost like they respond more quickly.”

“The new material reduced the weight by 30%,” Antoine explained. “I also cleaned up the programming, so the computer will respond in half the time. Get back over here so I can plug in to run a quick diagnostic on it.”

Mecha-Man turned around to walk back along the warehouse wall. This particular warehouse was filled with the alien trinkets that Antoine had been experimenting with over the last few months. Various machines were lined up along the far wall, with a half-dozen guys in white coats standing in front of them and checking the parts as they rolled down the assembly line. Two men at the far end took the completed rifles and placed them in a crate full of other completed weapons. Mecha-Man wasn’t entirely sure why Lynchpin insisted on constructing so many rifles, but that wasn’t his problem. After all, Antoine had incorporated a couple of those very rifles into his suit. And the same tech that made those rifles work also kept his suit running. So if Lynchpin’s mass-production kept his suit running, he couldn’t fault the guy for his toys.

Antoine stood near the center of the assembly line, glaring down at the nervous worker in front of him, holding a half-completed firing mechanism and shaking it in the man’s face. “Does this look correct to you?” he complained, running a hand through his graying brown hair. “These wires are inverted! If we activate it now, it will blow up in ten seconds!” He threw the mechanism to the ground. “Times like these, I really wish the wiring device hadn’t been destroyed last spring,” he muttered.

Mecha-Man chuckled and shook his head. You could say a lot of things about Antoine, but he definitely took his work seriously. Antoine waved him over – doubtless to recheck the screws on the new boot assemblies and run the software diagnostic – and Mecha-Man leaned down into a runner’s stance. He was standing next to the small windows set into the warehouse loading bay door, just about to jog away, when a glint of light from outside drew his attention. He looked out to see two vans bearing the markings of the Paris Police. The vans turned and stopped sideways at the far end of the warehouse yard, parked with their noses almost touching, and disgorged their passengers.

“Hey, boss, we got trouble here!” Mecha-Man called, leaning in closer to peer out the window. The heads-up display on his helmet automatically catalogued the number of officers present as well as their locations. Ten climbed out of each van, and about a third remained with the vans while the rest fanned out around the building in both directions. Mecha-Man did not recognize any of the faces, but he did log the leader in his database: a round man, average height, with short orange hair and green eyes. He held a bullhorn in one hand and a pistol in the other. The pistol model did not appear in the HUD database.

“Which heroes did they send?” asked Antoine briskly.

“No masks this time,” Mecha-Man answered, twisting his head around to track the officers with his helmet. “I count about twenty cops, and they’re spreading out around the building!”

The four-man guard team rushed to the windows, two on either side of Mecha-Man, their energy rifles already up to their shoulders. The police had taken shelter behind their vans, and Mecha-Man could see several rifle barrels pointing out at the warehouse.

“This is the Paris Police!” called the leader, standing behind the engine block of one of the vans. “We have–”

The rest of his announcement was drowned out by the sound of all four guards opening fire on him at once. The officer dropped to the ground behind his car as the energy bolts went over his head, with one striking the van itself and scorching off the paint. In response, the six police rifles opened up on them. The glass window in front of Mecha-Man’s face melted as a beam cut through it just above his head, and he could see and hear the wood burning from impacts up and down the warehouse wall.

The police had energy weapons now, too.

Mecha-Man drew his arm back, activated the pile driver, and smashed his fist through the warehouse door, opening up with that arm cannon the moment the barrel cleared the wall. Momentarily grateful for the upgrade, he poured a continuous beam of energy into the police vans, tracing a blackened, melted line across them.

“What’s going on out there?” Antoine demanded, the communicator squawking shrilly in Mecha-Man’s ear to be heard over the weapons discharging around him.

“Well, they know we’re here,” Mecha-Man retorted, not taking his eyes off the scene outside. The officers on that side of the building had all hunkered down behind their vans, with a couple attempting to return fire from beneath the vehicles. One energy blast passed Mecha-Man’s arm so close he could feel the heat of it through his leather-and-mesh armor. He pointed his arm down at the ground just in front of the vans, melting the asphalt and tracing deep gouges in the surface. He thought he heard a scream from outside, but the sound of his cannon firing drowned out all other noise. He activated the speaker on his helmet. “You want some more of this?” he shouted to the officers, whooping maniacally. “I’ve got plenty!”

“How many are there now?” asked Antoine, who had not moved from his place beside the assembly line.

Mecha-Man checked his HUD. “No reinforcements have shown up yet, so seven in front, another dozen or so spread around the building,” he reported.

A voice from the opposite side of the warehouse called, “A boat just dropped another dozen on the river side.”

“We can take them!” Mecha-Man declared, punching his other fist through the warehouse door and opening up with both cannons at once, pumping energy into the sides of the police vehicles, which started to warp and melt under the fusillade.

“It doesn’t matter,” Antoine replied glumly. “They know we’re here. Even if they leave this time, they will just come back. Or the _Heroes_ will show up to finish what they started.”

“So what’s the plan, boss?” asked Mecha-Man. Two officers raced from the vans toward the cover of a shipping container. He pre-empted their run and fired on the edge of the container, melting a hole clean through the metal. One officer dove under his aim, but the other didn’t move fast enough. Mecha-Man grinned as the energy struck the officer’s arm mid-fall. “Who wants some fresh-cooked bacon?” he taunted, lips curling in a grin.

He heard Antoine’s groan through the communicator in his helmet. “Not again,” he muttered. “At least we’re not losing a prototype this time,” he sighed. “Buy us as much time as you can. We’ll load up as much as we can fit and make a break for it.”

“You got it, boss,” Mecha-Man replied, setting his jaw and picking his next target. A white armored truck with police markings turned the corner three blocks down, charging straight toward their warehouse. Mecha-Man scanned the surroundings on his HUD, took careful aim, and melted through a streetlamp half a block in front of the truck. The pole fell over across the roadway just before the truck reached it, landing on its hood. Mecha-Man’s next shot blew out both front tires. The third went straight through the windshield. The driver slammed on the brakes and swerved, flipping the truck on its side, blocking off the road. The truck’s rear door fell open, and police officers in riot gear fell out, running for cover behind the building opposite their truck.

“And they just got reinforcements!” Mecha-Man called. “Not sure how much more time you’ve got!”

The sounds of fighting from the opposite side of the warehouse drew Mecha-Man’s attention. Checking his HUD, he could see the locations of their four guards, two of whom had been shot with energy blasts and were down. A couple of the workers had picked up rifles of their own and were holding the police off on the waterfront. But there were two police boats waiting upriver: they wouldn’t be escaping in the boats.

“Leave the equipment!” Antoine shouted angrily. “Just worry about the alien stuff and the rifles! We’ll blow it all when we’re gone!”

A smash came from the side wall, and Mecha-Man looked over just as a pair of police officers dove through a fresh hole in the wall, took cover behind crates, and raised their rifles. “Time’s up!” he shouted, pulling his right arm out of the hole he’d made in the door and pouring a continuous stream of energy through the new hole over the heads of the officers who’d broken in. Antoine grabbed a rifle off the bench in front of him, pulled the trigger, and hurled the rifle through the hole in the wall. The rifle exploded with a burst of white light that nearly shorted out Mecha-Man’s HUD. Two of the workers shot the wooden crates where the officers were hiding, igniting them. As thick black smoke filled the room, Mecha-Man stopped firing with one hand, just long enough to pull on his oxygen mask. Three sets of headlights turned on as the trio of panel vans they kept at the warehouse started their engines.

“Make a path for us!” ordered Antoine, honking his van’s horn anxiously.

Mecha-Man nodded and turned to face the warehouse door. He stepped back, took a deep breath, and charged through the door. The moment he cleared the warehouse, he launched a spread of rockets from the launchers on his back, targeting the police vans. Two shot off wild and impacted on the warehouse roof, one struck a shipping container and the last three burrowed into the hood of one van. No sooner had the rockets cleared their launchers than Mecha-Man activated his leg hydraulics and leapt into the air. A dozen energy guns tracked him through the jump, scoring a couple of hits on his armored legs. He aimed his cannons behind the police vans and fired two streams of white energy, scattering the clusters of police officers hiding there.

The jump carried him over the police vans. The first of Antoine’s panel vans was pushing its way through the hole he had made in the doorway by now, but they wouldn’t be able to get anywhere with the police vehicles blocking them in. Mecha-Man grabbed the closest police van and flipped it on its roof on top of the other one. A pair of grenades dropped from their compartment on his chest, spun around, and filled the air with acrid smoke, obscuring the panel vans from view. Mecha-Man turned one arm cannon on the building where the riot police team had taken cover as the three panel vans raced through the smoke cloud, turned down the next street, and disappeared. The last in the line was struck by a stray energy beam, spun out of control, and slammed into the wall of an abandoned building.

“Dammit!” cursed Antoine. “We can’t go back for it. Mecha-Man, Night Bat is sending us to the third alternate.”

Mecha-Man nodded to himself. Through the smoke he could just make out the lead police officer, kneeling to one side with his pistol aimed at Mecha-Man’s head. Mecha-Man launched a final spread of rockets, dropped his last smoke grenade, and raced away. He heard the rockets’ impact but couldn’t stay to see the results.


	15. Counterdiction Chapter 2

Having shed his exo-suit in the back-up lab, Gaston collapsed into his accustomed seat in the briefing room Night Bat had set aside for his team. After making his way to the alternate location – Night Bat had changed his mind twice before Mecha-Man finally linked back up with Antoine and the workers from the lab warehouse – they had switched vehicles to a disguised delivery truck for the second leg of their trip. Antoine had insisted that he stay in the suit, despite the burns he could feel on his calves from the police energy rifles, until they finally reached Night Bat’s headquarters.

His _second_ headquarters; they had been forced to relocate after Le Tirreur blew the last one to pieces.

Although Le Tirreur couldn’t possibly know about this building, Night Bat had increased the security this time, just in case. Where the old headquarters had been shielded from miraculous users by a single chi-orb, the Prior’s people had placed four of them in the four corners of the building to prevent the Heroes of Paris from entering. Night Bat had also placed a team of eight guards in the building at all times, including two Dark Acolytes in case the miraculous users somehow found a way inside the chi-orb fields. And to top it all off, the building itself was an under-construction office building the Lynchpin had acquired through about eight different shell companies. Of course, for as long as Gaston could remember, this particular building had been “under construction,” and it was no closer to completion now than it had been ten years ago. Who would look twice at it?

Antoine sat down in the seat next to Gaston and tossed a tube of burn ointment on the table in front of him. “Perhaps I should add the extra armor back on,” he mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“The extra plating doesn’t exactly make it easy to move in the suit,” Gaston argued, rubbing the ointment into his burns and wincing. “Maybe something lighter that still gives some protection from energy weapons?” On top of the burns, his hearing was still a little spotty from all the noise of the firefight. “Any chance of adding hearing protection in the helmet next time?” he asked.

Antoine scoffed. “Please, you don’t need that. It would interfere with the wiring for the display and communicator. You can just suck it up,” he replied irritably.

Gaston glared at him. “Fine. Why don’t I shoot off a dozen rifles next to _your_ head and see how _you_ like it?”

Antoine rolled his eyes. “Remember, you’re just the _pilot_ for my baby. I can always find another pilot; I did it once already. Then you can go back to the ‘boys in black’ squad.”

Gaston glared at him but clamped his mouth shut. The last “Mecha-Man” was still stuck in jail, and Gaston had no desire to share his cell – especially if that meant never seeing his wife and son again. He focused on rubbing the ointment into his legs as the rest of the team trickled into the room. The first to arrive were the Prior and his protégé, the woman he called the “Deaconess.” According to the Prior, she had been near the completion of her training when they had moved to Paris and joined up with Lynchpin, and he was grooming her as an assistant. They sat down on the same side of the table as Gaston and Antoine, facing the doorway.

The miraculous users showed up next – Gaston snorted on seeing that they were all transformed for dramatic effect. First was Tyran-X, his face the same mask of rage that he had worn ever since Night Bat had recruited him. Right behind him was that Killer Bee girl. If her nose were stuck any higher in the air, it would catch the wind when she walked – but then maybe that was part of the Bee Miraculous power set. The temperature almost seemed to drop when the last two arrived, the newest member of the team and the team’s leader.

“I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for the opportunity, M. Night Bat,” Cerna gushed as she followed him into the room, stooping so her antlers wouldn’t catch on the doorframe. “I promise I won’t let you down!”

“I am certain you won’t,” Night Bat agreed, smiling thinly. Though that smile wasn’t directed at him, a chill ran down Gaston’s spine all the same. Very few people who received that smile ever seemed to live through the experience…

The other three miraculous users took seats opposite Gaston and the non-miraculous users, while Night Bat strode purposefully to his place at the head of the conference table. He placed his hands on the table and ran his eyes up and down the seven people assembled in front of him. Gaston tried to meet his gaze without flinching.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that the _Lynchpin_ is unimpressed with our performance lately,” Night Bat began, fixing his eyes on the Deaconess. She opened her mouth to speak, but he went on without giving her a chance to defend herself. “His people have lost eight of the last fourteen shipments they tried to smuggle into Paris, and he is… upset… with the toll that is taking on his drug dealing operations. He tells me his people have enough of a supply to last through the end of the month at present sales rates, but he needs those drugs. The counterfeiting operations are barely turning a profit, and selling guns is a dubious proposition at best – certainly not if the Lynchpin intends to stay in control of the city’s criminal element.” His frown deepened. “I don’t need to tell you what happens if the Lynchpin runs out of money.”

Gaston grimaced. He was having a hard enough time feeding his family on the meager wages Lynchpin paid him, even _with_ the raise he’d received for agreeing to pilot the Mecha-Man suit. If Lynchpin couldn’t pay… if Lynchpin couldn’t pay, he would just take the suit and leave, and damn the consequences. Lynchpin could threaten his son all he wanted, but without money, who would carry out his threats? Lynchpin himself wouldn’t dare get his hands dirty!

Or maybe he would; Gaston had never met the man. Nor, he suspected, had anyone else at that table.

Of course, that was assuming that Night Bat himself wouldn’t come after him just for fun…

After a pause, Night Bat continued. “Then this morning the police raided no less than _seven_ warehouses, and they were almost a total loss. According to Lynchpin’s source in the Prefect’s office, one was taken without a fight – the one responsible has already been dealt with. Three were seized by the police intact, and the last two were partially destroyed. The only bright spot in the entire affair as far as Lynchpin is concerned was that Mecha-Man was able to salvage something from the loss of the last warehouse.” He gave Gaston the tiniest nod of approval, and he instantly sat up straighter.

“What does Lynchpin want from us?” demanded the Prior. “None of _my_ people were at any of those warehouses today.”

“Lynchpin is dealing with the warehouse situation,” Night Bat replied smoothly. “Whoever sold them out to the police _will_ wish they had never been born – as it is, the few I… helped… interrogate already wish so.”

“Does he want me to go and melt the Heroes down to slag?” asked Tyran-X darkly. “I wouldn’t mind going another round with the stray cat.”

Killer Bee scoffed. “Didn’t you get your butt handed to you by a _mouse_?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “Now _me_ , _I_ had Ladybug running around in circles!”

“You also lost to a powerless girl and a dog and failed to secure a possible nuclear deterrent for us,” Night Bat observed softly. Killer Bee flushed and folded her arms in a pout, shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

“You still haven’t answered the question,” Antoine pointed out calmly. “What is Lynchpin’s intention now? Does he blame this group for the failures of others?”

Night Bat’s eyes lit up maliciously. “On the contrary,” he answered, “Lynchpin’s _intention_ is to put you in the field. The success of your suit today has overshadowed the failures of _others_ in previous weeks, and he has decided that we may be the best option to protect his smuggling.”

The Deaconess glared at him, jutting her jaw out and running a hand through her shoulder-length brown hair. “Are you going to put all the blame on _me_ for those shipments you’ve lost?” she demanded.

“Oh, I would never do such a thing,” replied Night Bat, leaning forward and fixing her with his piercing gaze. “However, you have gotten very adept at _swimming_ recently, wouldn’t you say?”

The Deaconess lunged forward, but the Prior restrained her with a hand on her shoulder. “You cannot blame her alone for these failures,” the Prior stated smoothly, holding a hand up between the two in a pacifying gesture. “My people did their best every time, but those untrained thugs Lynchpin insists on using got in their way. That first time, Marta held two miraculous abusers off simultaneously, and another _dozen_ meatheads couldn’t handle the other two!”

“Be that as it may, your people have not proven as effective against the Heroes of Paris as you claimed – as you led us to believe,” noted Night Bat, raising an eyebrow. “Even you yourself cannot truly claim to have bested any of them!” He turned away from the two Dark Acolytes to address the rest of the group. “In the future no less than two of you will accompany every shipment, with at least one miraculous user.”

“That sounds great and all, but my powers work a whole lot better on dry land than on the deck of a ship,” Tyran-X replied, clenching his fist on the table.

Night Bat turned to the other two miraculous users and smiled thinly. “In that case, perhaps it is time for Killer Bee and Cerna to earn their keep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The unknown miraculous user is the POV character for the next chapter. However, her name is a hint to a (confirmed-in-the-show) previous miraculous user. If you can guess who, you may be able to guess what miraculous she found. Any ideas?


	16. Counterdiction Chapter 3

Cerna shifted her battleaxe from one hand to the other, testing the weight and balance. Before arriving in Paris, she hadn’t really considered the weapon, or even dreamed of actually _using_ it in anger. The miraculous had simply been a tool that fell into her lap, not something to use as a weapon. And for her purposes, a battleaxe hadn’t been overly useful anyways.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” her companion interrupted, fixing her with a look of mild disgust. “You’ll put a hole in the side of the ship. Or smash one of these crates.”

Cerna laughed. “I may not be a fancy ‘Dark Acolyte,’ but I can at least twirl an axe without sinking a boat!” Nevertheless she let the axe head fall to the floor and leaned it against one of the crates. “So why do you hate miraculous users so much?” she asked, looking the other in the eye in mild curiosity.

“Really? You think I hate you?” the Deaconess asked, eyes widening in surprise.

“I’ve noticed the way you look at us,” replied Cerna, resting her elbows on her knees. “You hardly want to be in the same room as me or Killer Bee. And your Prior… I pay enough attention to what he says to know he and Night Bat dislike each other.”

The Deaconess sighed heavily. “I don’t _hate_ you,” she finally replied, “ _any_ of you. If anything, I’m concerned for you. Have you ever considered what these miraculous are? What they represent?”

“Not really.” Cerna shrugged. “I’ve considered what it lets me do, and it’s pretty amazing. And according to Night Bat, I’ve only scratched the surface of the Reindeer Miraculous’ powers!”

The Deaconess scoffed. “A miraculous is not a toy,” she retorted. “It is a weapon, one which will rip apart the fabric of reality, imbalance the universe and plunge it into utter chaos. The Kwamis who inhabit them are an aberration and will rip the universe apart if left unchecked!”

“‘Aberration’?” Cerna snorted. “Hernn is just an adorable berry-vacuum! He really wouldn’t hurt a fly. I should introduce you some time.”

“I don’t need to _meet_ one of those monsters!”

“So who told you Kwamis are monsters?” asked Cerna. She hadn’t known anything about miraculous before finding hers; as it was, she hardly knew anything _now_ , even after five years.

“My parents were killed in a car accident when I was two,” explained the Deaconess. “Or at least that’s what they told me when I was older. I barely remember anything from before then. The Dark Acolytes claimed me as an orphan and brought me back to the Temple. That’s been my home ever since. The Dark Acolytes raised me, they taught me, they trained me… they made me who I am today. I have been told all my life that miraculous are an abomination, that I serve the balance and miraculous are inherently _im_ balance.”

“You’re an orphan?” Cerna looked more closely at her. “I am, too. Only my parents were killed while I was in _Ungdomsskole_. I didn’t have any other family, so I found myself living on the streets. I had to look out for myself, and the only way I could survive was by taking what I needed. One night I found myself outside a huge mansion. It was freezing out, so I snuck inside. Just inside the door I saw this fancy necklace on a statue. I figured, maybe it would be worth something, so I took it.” She chuckled and caressed her torc. “The moment I touched it, Hernn burst out of it and introduced himself. I haven’t been alone since, and this thing has kept me alive.”

“I am sorry for your losses and for your troubles, truly,” replied the Deaconess sympathetically. “But have you considered that you might have been better off had you never found this miraculous?”

Cerna shook her head. “I don’t see how – I might not be alive now without it! I’m not alone and starving on the streets. Whenever I was hungry, I could just ask a couple animals to sneak me some food from the grocer’s or from the bakery. When I needed clothing, a housecat would steal his owner’s jewelry for me to sell or drag a coat outside if I was cold. And now I am here and Night Bat promises to teach me to use my miraculous even better!” ****

“I would not trust that man,” the Deaconess warned with a nervous look.

“ _You_ ’re working with him.”

The Deaconess folded her arms and leaned back against one of the crates. A shadow passed by the porthole next to Cerna’s head, and she looked out to see three police boats circling them. One was of the larger variety and loaded down with officers, while the other two she saw were no more than pontoon boats.

“Looks like we won’t get a break this time,” Cerna grumbled, twirling her battleaxe and stowing it on her back. “It’s show time.”

“Do you see any of the miraculous heroes?” asked the Deaconess, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and picking up her quarterstaff.

“Just looks like the cops for now.”

“That doesn’t mean anything; Rena Rouge pulled that trick on us last week.” The Deaconess raised an eyebrow at her and gestured toward the hatch. “But either way, we mustn’t keep them waiting!”

Cerna led the way up the ladder and threw the hatch open just as the first police boat pulled alongside their boat and three officers climbed over the railing onboard. She moved to one side as the Deaconess joined her on deck and moved to the other side of the boat, where Cerna saw another police boat approaching. She drew her battleaxe and shouted, “Call of the Hunt!” Concentrating on her surroundings she could hear the birds in the skies above their heads: pigeons and thrushes and blackbirds. She let out a piercing shriek and lifted her arms. She had a moment to take in the look of utter shock on the faces of the police officers before the sky blackened and birds began diving and swarming around her. She pointed her axe at the first officer, and the flock peeled away, pelting at his face with their talons extended. The officer behind him, a heavyset man with orange hair, pulled the first officer to the ground and aimed his pistol at her. He fired a beam of energy, and Cerna casually deflected it with the flat of her battleaxe head, redirecting it into the deck of the largest police boat. Smoke appeared from the spot it had hit.

On the opposite side of the ship, the Deaconess and a small group of their guards battled against police officers on another large boat as well as two pontoon boats, trying to keep them at bay. Two officers had made it onboard and were fighting the Deaconess. She ducked a wild punch from one, swept the other’s legs out from under him with her staff, and kicked both officers off the boat and into the river.

Cerna let out a low bellowing growl, which was answered from the water. Two alligator snapping turtles that had been swimming past turned at her summons and, with another growl, she set them against the police pontoon boats. One bit clean through a pontoon, causing that boat to begin sinking. One of the officers on the other boat, seeing the plight of their comrade, used the butt of his rifle to hold the other snapping turtle off from attacking their boat as well.

On the ship, Cerna and her swarm of birds faced a growing number of police officers as the Deaconess and the remaining guards concentrated on the threats on the opposite side of the boat. Cerna raised her battleaxe in both hands, shrieked, and slashed the axe downward. As one, all the birds screamed past her, diving pell-mell at the officers, who dropped to the deck and covered their heads with their hands to shield their faces from the scratching, clawing nightmare surrounding them. One of the officers raised his rifle, and Cerna hacked the barrel off with her axe before kicking the officer himself over the side of the boat and into the water. The officer next to him, the one with the orange hair who seemed to be in charge, pushed himself up into a crouch, batted away a couple pigeons, and dove headlong into Cerna’s chest. She fell to the deck on her back, held him off of her with her battleaxe, drew her legs up to her chest, and kicked him into the air. With a cry of terror, he launched five meters above the deck, flailing his arms.

At that moment, a portal opened beside the deck. A lavender butterfly flew through the portal and melted into the officer’s pistol. His face looked momentarily confused as he was covered in purple smoke. A moment later a navy-blue grappling hook shot out of the smoke cloud and embedded itself in the deck, pulling after it a metal-coated body with a full face-shield. He dropped to a knee as he hit the deck and pushed himself to his feet. “I am Rogercop,” he declared, aiming one arm at her. “You are under arrest! Now come quietly, or there will be trouble.”

“Oh, there’s already trouble here, buddy,” Cerna retorted, swinging her axe at his head. Rogercop ducked under the swing and punched her in the face. Cerna barely managed to avoid the punch and kicked him backwards. He stumbled over the boat’s railing with a yell. Cerna spun around just as the portal closed.

Before it closed, four other figures emerged; from Night Bat’s information they were Hato Gozen, Lupa Gris, Ayilon, and–

“Heretic!” shouted the Deaconess, abandoning her position and turning on the fallen Dark Acolyte. She swung her staff wildly at the Heretic’s head, a strike which he parried effortlessly before elbowing her in the gut.

“Wait!” Cerna shouted. “Remember the plan!”

The Deaconess groaned and jumped away from the Heretic, out of reach of his staff. She pulled bolas from hidden compartments in her sleeves and flung them at Ayilon and Hato Gozen. Both heroes dodged the flying bolas, but Ayilon landed just as the Deaconess flicked a piece of chi-putty at that spot. The chi-putty stuck to her chest, rendering her immobile.

Cerna, meanwhile, jumped in front of the Heretic and swung her battleaxe straight at his neck. He easily ducked beneath the attack and punched her in the gut. She tensed at the blow landed, ignored the strike, and counterattacked with a punch of her own, but he had already spun away. She pursued him, anticipating where he would be and aiming a kick in that spot, but he saw the kick coming and sidestepped around it, planting his quarterstaff on the deck for balance. Cerna summoned all the birds still in the area and sent them hurtling toward the Heretic, looping around him to beat Lupa Gris with their wings as they passed.

Across the deck, their remaining guards were in a furious battle with the police officers, while Cerna and the Deaconess focused on the newly-arrived heroes. But suddenly, two of their guards fell to the ground with their wrists handcuffed together. Rogercop had returned. He walked up the side of the boat, stepped over the railing and aimed his handcuff cannon at Cerna. “Alive or dead, you are coming with me!”

“I think you’re taking this a _little_ personally, buddy!” Cerna retorted. She ducked the Heretic’s staff, sidestepped a kick from Lupa Gris, and swept the Heretic’s legs out from under him. He fell to the deck and rolled to his feet between Cerna and Rogercop, just as Rogercop fired a pair of handcuffs at her. The handcuffs struck the Heretic instead, and fell off moments later. But in that brief stretch that he was vulnerable, Cerna grabbed him by the collar of his robes and threw him headfirst over the side of the boat.

Rogercop let out an audible groan but nodded. “Retreat!” he bellowed, dropping to one knee and firing a continuous stream of handcuffs at Cerna and the Deaconess. The Deaconess was in the middle of a heated duel against Hato Gozen, and Cerna jumped to interpose between her and Rogercop, spinning her battleaxe to shield both of them from the flying handcuffs. While Cerna and the Deaconess were pinned down, the remaining police officers climbed over the sides of the boat, with one stopping momentarily to remove the chi-putty from Ayilon, who took a position next to Rogercop to cover the officers’ retreat.

By now the warehouse where the boat was supposed to be unloaded was in sight, with Mecha-Man standing on the dock in front of it. “Get rid of your loose ends and I’ll give you some cover,” he informed them over their communicators.

The beeping of her miraculous warned Cerna that her Call was about to run out, and she let out a final shriek, deluging the boat’s deck with swarms of birds. With a glance over her shoulder at the Deaconess, Cerna watched her step backward, past Cerna, with Hato Gozen and Lupa Gris following. Timing her move just right, Cerna dropped to the deck at the same moment that the Deaconess dove to one side and threw her staff at Rogercop’s feet. Both Hato Gozen and Lupa Gris were struck by handcuffs as Rogercop stumbled backward over the staff. Cerna jumped up and swung the flat of her battleaxe head at the two miraculous heroes, knocking them off the boat. Another bolas looped around Ayilon’s ankles, and she tumbled backward over the railing.

The moment the Heroes and police were off the boat, Mecha-Man launched a half-dozen smoke bombs, covering the river with a thick screen of smoke.

As the boat docked beside a nondescript delivery truck, for the first time since first catching sight of the police boats, Cerna allowed herself to breathe normally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ungdomsskole is the Norwegian equivalent of 8th-10th grades, and Cerna is Norwegian. They have the option to learn French in school at that age, so she does know French. Her name is a reference to Cernunnos, a Celtic god and confirmed previous miraculous holder.


	17. Counterdiction Chapter 4

Killer Bee lounged on one of the benches in the boat’s hold, playing idly with the communicator on her top, reviewing the abilities it listed. Pollen had explained some of the miraculous’ powers in the months since she got the miraculous, but Killer Bee still hadn’t had too many opportunities to cut loose and experiment. In fact, aside from meetings with Night Bat and the rest of the team, she could still count on one hand the number of times she had even transformed.

“What is the world coming to?” muttered the Prior, leaning against a crate on the far side of the hold, staring at her in disgust with his arms folded. “Millennia my people have been working to preserve the world from the imbalance which miraculous bring to it, and I suddenly find myself working with people like _you_.”

“And yet, you _have_ to work with us if you’re ever going to accomplish your goal,” Killer Bee replied evenly, not looking up from her top. “You _say_ you’re these high-and-mighty anti-miraculous crusaders. The way you talk, you think you’re in this ‘holy war’ against ‘miraculous abusers.’ But in all that time, what have you actually done?”

“I’ve fought miraculous users on three continents!” the Prior insisted, smacking his chest. “My people defeated a miraculous user and took his miraculous!”

Killer Bee finally looked up and arched an eyebrow at him. “Yeah? And where is it now?” Leaning forward and sneering she continued, “The fact is, the Lynchpin’s people have accomplished more than your people have: they’ve fought miraculous users and taken their miraculous… and kept them. In fact, I would say that I’ve probably fought miraculous users as many times as _you_ have – and I’ve actually had more success than you… because I’ve actually had _success_.”

The Prior furrowed his brows. “But… you joined this team at the same time that I did. How is that possible when you haven’t fought a single miraculous user?”

She scoffed. “I haven’t always been on this team _or_ had a miraculous. I would have thought that _you_ , of all people, would understand that you don’t need a miraculous to fight people with miraculous.”

“Obviously you don’t,” he replied dismissively. “But I have decades of training to fall back on.”

“So it must grate on you to find out that a teenager without any of your vaunted ‘Dark Acolyte training’ has accomplished more than you.”

The Prior glared at her. “Rich talk without proof to back it up.” He turned away from her to stare out the porthole and frowned. “What–”

The thud of someone landing on the deck above them was their only warning. Killer Bee looked up at the ceiling suspiciously, moments before they heard yelling filtering through the hatch entrance. Several of the guards on the top deck began firing their weapons, and Killer Bee glanced over at the Prior. “Looks like the pleasure cruise is over,” she observed, arching an eyebrow.

He nodded and climbed up the ladder, pushed the hatch open, and charged onto the deck. Killer Bee sat back and smirked. The Heroes were here for one thing, and one thing only: the contents of this hold. Why should she go up there and fight them when she could wait down here and let them come to her? It’s not like the product was going anywhere. With the hatch open the sounds of fighting were magnified as the guards on the deck fired at the heroes. Someone – she couldn’t tell who – let out a piercing scream, and a body fell past the porthole into the river with a splash.

“There are four of them up here,” the Prior reported over their communicators. “Carapace, Anansi, the Heretic, and – crap, I lost the other one. For all your high and mighty talk, we could use a little help up here!”

Killer Bee grinned maliciously and dropped back into the shadow behind one of the crates. A hero who vanished could only mean Bengalia. As if on cue, she heard a soft creaking sound from the ladder, so soft that even her miraculous-enhanced hearing barely caught it. “Venom,” she whispered, holding her top tight.

A disembodied voice spoke from the opposite side of the crate behind which Killer Bee hid. “I see five crates down here,” the voice whispered, close to the corner where Killer Bee hid. Taking a chance, she tiptoed around the crate in the opposite direction, listening carefully. The lid of the crate shifted as though an invisible person were trying to peel it off. “This one has–”

Bengalia never got to finish the sentence, as Killer Bee stabbed her in the back with the Venom-infused top, immobilizing her in place. She reached out to find the invisible hero, and finally her hand connected with something solid. Running her hand up the hero’s form, her hand ran through the bottom of a ponytail. Grabbing the ponytail tightly in order not to lose track of where she was, she used her other hand to following her hair up to Bengalia’s shoulder. “That didn’t exactly work out for you, did it?” Killer Bee commented, pulling her ponytail back and sneering in front of what had to be the hero’s face. “Invisible and immobile. If I don’t free you, you could be stuck this way for a really long time. And then how would your friends find you?” She laughed derisively and put a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “I may not undo the immobility, but let’s see if I can solve your invisibility problem…”

Unfortunately, Pollen had not been able to describe what any of the miraculous looked like, and based on the pictures on the Ladyblog she hadn’t noticed anything specific that could be the Tiger Miraculous. But of the miraculous Lynchpin had, three went on the head and two were worn around the neck, so the head and neck were as good of places to start as any. She ran her hands up Bengalia’s head and through her hair: nothing. She was just about to check around her neck when something crashed down the ladder, ricocheted off the bottom rung, and struck her solidly in the side, knocking her back a pace. Killer Bee whipped her head around to face the attack just in time for Carapace to drop through the hatch. He landed at the bottom of the ladder, bent his legs as he landed, and sprang at her in a tackle, catching her around the waist. He slammed her over into the ground, knocking over the still-invisible-and-frozen Bengalia in the process, and Killer Bee kicked out her leg, pushing him off of her.

Carapace spun over and rolled to his feet, picking his shield up off the floor with one hand in the same motion, and charged her again, ramming the center of his shield into Killer Bee’s chest and nearly pushing all the air from her lungs. She spun around the shield and looped her top around his arm. Carapace turned to face her and planted his feet as she tugged desperately on the top string. “Are you kidding me, dude?” he asked, giving her a look of disbelief. He flicked his elbow to grab the string before spinning and pulling her off-balance. “I trained against the _real_ Queen Bee.” He brought the edge of his shield down on her arm. “I train against _Ladybug_.” She pulled her arm back just in time to avoid him breaking it. “And you’re not half as good as _either_ of them.” He swung out the shield, missing her face by millimeters as she ducked. “Give us back the miraculous right now, and I promise we’ll help you. But whatever you think Lynchpin will give you, whatever he’s told you, he’s full of lies.”

Killer Bee smirked. “So noble. I’d expect no less from the ‘Heroes of Paris.’” She released her top from around Carapace’s wrist and dove into a somersault which took her to the base of the ladder. Carapace was right on her heels, and she pushed off into a jump through the hatch the moment her feet were underneath her. The moment she reached the boat’s top deck, her heart sank.

The Prior was embroiled in a fight against the Heretic beside the pilothouse. Near the front of the boat Anansi was in the process of kicking the last guard standing over the railing and into the water. The rest of the dozen guards they had brought were either gone or strewn around the boat, unconscious. As she watched, the Prior swung his quarterstaff at the Heretic, who ducked beneath the strike, elbowed the Prior in the side, and kneed him in the gut. The Prior stumbled backward away from him and looked up to see Carapace, who had just followed Killer Bee out of the hold. The Prior threw a pellet of chi-putty in Carapace’s direction, but Carapace threw his shield to intercept it, clattering to the deck in the middle of the boat. The Prior took one last look at the three heroes before diving off the boat to escape.

Killer Bee turned to find Carapace standing right behind her, and spun into a kick. Carapace blocked the kick with one arm, pushed her away, and dropped to the deck, sweeping her legs out from under her. She hit the deck and rolled to her feet, narrowly avoiding a wad of chi-putty that the Heretic threw at her.

At that moment, she heard her miraculous beeping incessantly. She would de-transform in less than a minute. There was no way for her to salvage this… Killer Bee kicked Anansi in the face and dove off the boat and into the river a moment before her transformation wore off. _Dammit!_


	18. Counterdiction Chapter 5

It was a few days later, and Mecha-Man was huddled in the cabin of another smuggling boat, this one disguised to look like a river tour boat. Killer Bee was in the boat’s hold with Antoine, who had come along to provide technical support. Before leaving Rouen, Antoine had outfitted the boat with a number of small surveillance cameras, giving him a 360° view of the river surrounding them, as well as a couple on the deck. Of course, considering that the Heroes typically used a portal to appear directly on the boat’s deck, Mecha-Man was unsure exactly how useful the cameras facing the river would be. Still, better than nothing…

Mecha-Man’s communicator crackled with their conversation. “Have you considered miniaturizing the components?” Killer Bee was asking Antoine. “I know an engineer who’s done some amazing things with miniaturization. You might even be able to make the suit small enough to fit through the hatch.”

“I’m sure you do,” scoffed Antoine dismissively. “But I’m also sure that anything reducing the size and weight of the suit that substantially would leave him vulnerable.”

“Miniaturizing the motors and hydraulics could reduce weight,” Killer Bee pointed out.

“Not as much as you would think,” Antoine pointed out. “We’ve already reduced the size and vulnerability of the servos and hydraulics a lot since the first version. At this point most of the bulk comes from the armor, and we’ve already reduced that as much as we can and still protect against the miraculous users’ weapons _and_ energy weapons.”

“Hey, I don’t mind the extra armoring,” Mecha-Man interjected. “As long as the hydraulics are protected from pointy objects like swords and claws and I don’t have to worry as much about getting my legs melted, it’s fine by me. Personally, I very much prefer _surviving_ these jobs, even if it means sitting in a cabin alone instead of hanging out in the hold with you two!” _To be completely honest_ , he thought, _that’s kind of a bonus!_ “The only downside,” he added, “is that you still haven’t put any games on the system for me to play.”

Antoine snorted. “You would clutter up your operating system with _games_?”

“Games, books…”

Antoine laughed derisively. “I would not put those time-wastes anywhere near my baby!”

Mecha-Man deactivated his communicator and leaned back against the cabin wall in the sudden silence and cycled through the HUD menu to find the targeting system. He’d run the diagnostic program on it fourteen times already, but there wasn’t much _else_ to do if he didn’t want to listen to the other two bicker. Still, arrogant though Antoine might be about his suit, Mecha-Man couldn’t exactly argue with the results.

He lifted and moved his arms as the diagnostic program prompted, cycling through the different weapons load-outs. Everything was operating just fine. Just like everything had been operating fine the last fourteen times. Perhaps next time he would ask Antoine to give the suit access to his cameras; at the moment, Antoine’s tablet was the one device that could view the camera feeds. But even if nothing happened, just being able to see the cameras and _know_ that nothing was happening outside would help fight off the boredom of the assignment. Mecha-Man yawned and flexed his arm and leg joints before returning to his perusal of the system’s menu.

A whooshing sound coming from the front of the boat interrupted his concentration and brought his attention back to the present. Mecha-Man squinted out the small round cabin window to see a portal opening over the front end of the boat. Four figures jumped through the portal: Cat Noir, Taureau Dechaine, the Heretic, and Miss Pinky. Mecha-Man switched his communicator back on and called to the other two, “We’ve got heroes!”

Cat Noir landed first, swung his staff, and swept three guards’ feet out from under them, sending them toppling over the boat’s railing before any of those on the deck had a chance to react. As one, the remaining guards drew their energy rifles and fired, but Miss Pinky landed in front of Cat Noir, spinning her rake as a shield. The heroes quickly spread out from the front of the boat, with Miss Pinky racing for the pilothouse while Taureau Dechaine and Cat Noir worked their way through the guards along either side of the boat.

“So what are you waiting for?” demanded Antoine. “Get rid of them!”

Mecha-Man twisted his right wrist to switch the arm cannon on that side to the new “Anti-Miraculous” weapon load-out before deploying the pile-driver on that arm and smashing straight through the cabin wall. At the same moment the hatch opened and Killer Bee jumped up on the deck. Miss Pinky was the closest target, and Mecha-Man shot a wad of chi-putty at her which missed wide to the right and splattered onto one of their guards. On hearing the discharge, Miss Pinky veered toward him, spinning her rake at his legs the moment she was within reach. Mecha-Man jumped over the rake head and punched her in the face. She leaned back to avoid the punch and brought her rake up to knock his arm aside, moments before he could shoot another chi-putty pellet at her from pointblank range. That pellet struck the boat’s railing, centimeters from where Killer Bee had wrapped her top around Cat Noir’s staff. “Why can’t you stay still?” Mecha-Man grunted at Miss Pinky, locking his legs against her follow-up kick and swiping at her throat with his arm.

“Why can’t you stop doing bad things?” retorted Miss Pinky. She ducked under his swipe and pushed him away with her rake head.

“We’re just giving the people what they want,” Mecha-Man told her dismissively. “If the people didn’t want what we sell, we’d be selling something else.”

“And all the people you’ve hurt along the way?” she demanded, eyes flashing with anger, spinning her rake to one side to block an energy blast from one of the guards. “They _wanted_ you to hurt them?”

He kicked her in the chest. “When people get in our way, sometimes we have to get them out of the way!”

“And sometimes when people are in the wrong place at the wrong time, you use their grieving husbands to hurt _more_ innocent people!” she shouted, pushing his leg aside and landing a kick of her own against his head.

On the far side of the boat, Killer Bee’s fight against Cat Noir had come to an abrupt end as the Heretic tripped her with his quarterstaff, sending her to the deck on her back. She flipped back to her feet and jumped over the bolas he threw at her, narrowly avoiding a wad of chi-putty as she did so. The Heretic feinted to one side, but she anticipated his move and snatched the quarterstaff out of his hands with her top before throwing it over the side of the boat. He ducked under the kick she aimed at his chest, but could not avoid her Venom. He froze mid-kick when the top connected with his chest, but only for a moment; less than a minute later he was already back in the fight, pulling something off his neck.

“Focus on Taureau Dechaine!” Antoine ordered Mecha-Man. “Let the guards handle Cat Noir and Miss Pinky.”

Mecha-Man grunted an acknowledgement, shot a bolas at Miss Pinky’s ankles to distract her, and raced across the deck, catching Taureau Dechaine in a flying tackle where he was in the process of picking up their guards and hurling them over the side of the boat one after the other. “Let’s see how you match up against me!” Mecha-Man shouted, kneeing him in the gut and springing off of him. He shot a chi-putty pellet at Taureau Dechaine’s head, but he rolled away from the shot and jumped to his feet. Mecha-Man raised one arm to block the cattle prod swinging at his head and punched the enormous hero in the chest with the other hand. Taureau Dechaine caught his fist with one hand, grabbed Mecha-Man’s other arm with the other, and head-butted him backward. Mecha-Man stumbled to one knee and shook his head against the sudden dizziness. He fixed his eyes on the massive hero, pushed back to his feet, braced his legs, and pushed back against Taureau Dechaine. He feinted to one side, pulling Taureau Dechaine off-balance, and slammed him to the ground. Mecha-Man unleashed his energy cannon on Taureau Dechaine, who blocked the attack by spinning his cattle prod one-handed and pushed himself up to his knees.

“You’re pretty big,” Taureau Dechaine acknowledged. “But I’ve faced _much_ bigger than _you_!”

“Mecha-Man, point your cannon directly at the railing to your left and fire!” ordered Antoine.

Mecha-Man turned his energy cannon away from Taureau Dechaine and obeyed Antoine’s order immediately. A moment later, he heard a quiet splash of something hitting the water. Taureau Dechaine jumped to his feet and charged Mecha-Man. Mecha-Man stepped to one side and dragged his foot, tripping Taureau Dechaine. Mecha-Man grabbed Taureau Dechaine by the ankle, picked him up, and swung him over the side of the boat. Taureau Dechaine grabbed the railing as he fell, and Mecha-Man kicked the railing as he tried to pull himself back onboard. The railing splintered under the kick, and, with a yell, Taureau Dechaine fell into the river.

One down.

Killer Bee had by this time been forced to retreat into the hold to recharge, leaving Mecha-Man and a dwindling number of guards to face the remaining three Heroes. Not having to worry about hitting his own teammate, he fired a spray of chi-putty in the direction of Cat Noir and Miss Pinky, landing a pellet on Miss Pinky’s shoulder. Cat Noir ducked behind a couple of their guards to avoid the attack, and the Heretic immediately ran to remove the chi-putty from Miss Pinky. “Duck!” Mecha-Man shouted at the guards. The moment they complied, he let loose on Cat Noir with both energy cannons.

“Cataclysm!” Cat Noir called, swinging his staff with one hand to deflect the energy blasts. He reached down and was just about to destroy the boat’s deck when Mecha-Man shot a bolas at his hand. The bolas disintegrated as the Cataclysm expended on it. Cat Noir glared at him.

The Heretic had removed the chi-putty from Miss Pinky by then, and she shouted, “Cornucopia,” spinning her rake in a spot on the deck as she did so. Instantly a tree sapling started growing out of the deck from that spot.

“What the hell’s going on up there!?!” Antoine demanded moments later, panic in his voice. “We’re going to be swimming real soon!”

Mecha-Man bellowed as he poured energy at the Heroes, joined by the last three of their guards who were still on their feet. Cat Noir and Miss Pinky spun their weapons to block the constant barrage, but were still pressed backward by the force of the energy beams. Finally, Cat Noir gave the other two a signal, and he and Miss Pinky each grabbed one of the Heretic’s arms and all three together jumped off the boat and onto the bridge the boat was just passing under. A pair of police boats appeared from around the bend, and Mecha-Man launched a spread of smoke rockets, blanketing the river with smoke and hiding their boat from view.

The boat was starting to ride low at the front; Mecha-Man’s HUD showed a list of 10° that was starting to get worse. The pilot limped the boat over to shore directly beneath the bridge, where a delivery truck had just pulled up to unload their cargo. Mecha-Man slumped against the energy-scored cabin wall and watched the new sapling grow so high the top branches scraped against the bottom of the bridge. His HUD showed an incoming call from Night Bat. “Mission accomplished, boss,” he mumbled exhaustedly before ending the call.


	19. Interlude 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Sabrina make a discovery

Max sighed and replayed the footage for the fifth time. The drone dropped down on the port side of the boat and scanned through the hull. Seven wooden crates were highlighted – the drone’s scanner had insufficient data to identify the species of tree. A sensor shot out of the drone and attached to the hull next to the crates and scanned them via resonant frequency, x-ray, and electromagnetism simultaneously. Turing’s processor had taken the readings and identified pure cocaine in six of the crates. On scanning the seventh crate, the readings had matched several extraterrestrial elements, though the scan did not show the outline of the contents. Moments after completing that scan, the drone feed turned to static and was lost.

Shifting to the footage from the second drone, Max watched as Mecha-Man fired an energy blast at Taureau Dechaine on the boat’s top deck. Taureau Dechaine deflected the energy blast by spinning his cattle prod in a shield. Then Mecha-Man seemed to hesitate, cocked his head, turned his arm cannon down, and shot the first drone directly through the boat’s railing.

“Turing, what was happening right before Mecha-Man destroyed Drone 1?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“There was a brief lull in the fighting on the boat,” Turing replied promptly, floating to one side of Max’s head. “Based on available data, I calculate a 50% chance that Mecha-Man heard the drone’s rotors spinning and targeted the noise.”

Max nodded. “That is my conclusion, as well,” he agreed, setting his mouth in disappointment. “It is unfortunate that he was able to locate and destroy the drone so easily.”

“It performed its function optimally,” argued Turing. “It acquired the necessary information and transmitted it to me before its destruction.”

“It did, but I would prefer to improve the drones’ survivability, rather than have to replace them repeatedly if this becomes a common occurrence.” Max shifted the display to show the drone design. “Reducing the noise level is a logical starting point, but there is no way to do so when starting from the commercial body.”

“Are we going to design the next prototype from scratch?” Markov chirped, hovering on Max’s other side.

Max nodded, just as the lab door opened. He turned around to see Sabrina leaning against the doorframe, watching him with her arms folded over her chest and smiling. He returned her smile. “Good morning! I was unsure if you planned to come today.”

“I thought you might want company to go through the results from yesterday,” she told him, taking her accustomed seat at the lab table and picking up a tablet. “Also, my parents are inviting you for dinner again tonight, and they will not take ‘no’ for an answer this time!”

Max frowned as he sat down opposite her at the table. Her parents had invited him a couple times since Spring Break, but he had always been busy. Seven times he had already been scheduled to eat with the Lê family. Twice he had been in the lab, assisting Viperion’s team in their mission in the port cities. Once he had been forced to cancel at the last minute because of a Heroes of Paris emergency – Tyran-X and Mecha-Man had nearly caused a train derailment, and it had taken the combined efforts of himself, an Akuma helper, _and_ Taureau Dechaine and Multiplice, who had happened to be nearby at the time, to prevent it without injuries. Both Captain Raincomprix _and_ Sabrina had also missed dinner that night as a result. However, he had interacted with Sabrina’s parents on a limited number of occasions since the two of them had begun dating, and every interaction had been positive from his perspective.

Why the sudden insistence?

Sabrina looked up at him and started laughing. “It’s not going to be bad,” she assured him, covering his hand with her own. “They weren’t angry or upset when they brought it up this morning.”

“Well, if they insist, then the only appropriate response is to say ‘yes,’” he replied, grinning sheepishly.

“So what is the project for today?” she asked, smiling encouragingly.

“The next shipment is not scheduled for another two days,” he reported. “This morning I have been analyzing Mecha-Man’s destruction of my drone yesterday. There is room for improvement in the design, but that will require building a new model from the bolts up when time and resources permit.”

“These worked pretty well,” she pointed out, gesturing to the schematic. “The anti-venom dart launcher was especially useful.”

Max nodded. “Agreed. All the same, there is room to improve the drones’ versatility significantly in the next model. However, at this time I believe it would be more prudent to analyze the information the drone acquired.”

Sabrina opened an inventory list on her tablet and furrowed her brow, sticking her tongue out slightly in concentration. Max watched her eyes skim over the screen. “Are these elements that you’ve already catalogued?” she asked without looking up.

Max nodded and gave Markov a look, at which the robot activated his holographic projector to display Max’s supplemental periodic table. If a year ago someone had asked him the probability of him discovering and studying elements not found on the existing terrestrial periodic table, he would have placed the odds of that around 3% at the highest. And yet, here he was. “Markov?”

Five of the elements started blinking. “There were no unidentified elements present,” Markov reported. “No terrestrial elements were present apart from those consistent with the shipping container and packaging.”

Sabrina looked at the periodic table and then back down at her tablet. “Something about this list of elements sounds familiar,” she observed, looking up at him in surprise.

“Analyze the percentage of each element present and compare to all known examples,” Max instructed, looking over at Turing and Markov. Sabrina reached across the table, put her hand over his, and squeezed his hand gently as they waited for the robots to complete their analysis.

“I have identified one sample which matches the elemental composition of the scan within 2% margin of error,” Turing announced promptly. “The center console of the extraterrestrial craft recovered last year.”

“Based on the dimensions of the crate and the schematic from our sample,” added Markov, “that piece could be shipped intact in this manner.”

* * *

“Colombia,” Max announced gravely. It was after lunch, and Max, Sabrina, Marinette, and Julia were sitting around the Heroes’ conference table. In deference to their American guest, they were speaking English. “Based on available data, it is statistically probable that Lynchpin has gained access to an extraterrestrial craft in Colombia. He has been smuggling the pieces into Paris with his drug shipments.”

“Really? You think he managed to find a whole ship?” Marinette asked, wide-eyed. “How is that even possible?”

“Given the size of the ship we recovered,” replied Max, shrugging, “it is conceivable that it was carried by something larger – the ship which created the debris field we have been analyzing and from which I have spent the last three months recovering samples. A ship large enough to carry one smaller ship could carry several. Additionally, from my examination – such as I have been able to do under the circumstances – I have concluded that the engines on our ship are sufficient for movement in orbit but impractical for long-distance travel. When the larger ship was destroyed, perhaps it released these smaller ships, which fell in different parts of the planet. We recovered one; Lynchpin evidently recovered another.”

“In other words, they are basically escape pods,” Sabrina explained.

“What is the risk if he has?” asked Julia.

“Unknown,” Max answered. “The Mecha-Man exo-suit incorporates reverse-engineered extraterrestrial technology in the arm cannons, little different from that with which I have been experimenting. Lynchpin’s energy weapons are all based on the same extraterrestrial models. If they are able to reverse-engineer other technology from the ship, the possibilities are extensive in terms of their potential applications.”

Marinette furrowed her brow in concentration. “How do we prevent it?”

Max turned to Julia. “The parts that definitively came from a ship were included in a shipment through Panama,” he told her. “Has your team identified Lynchpin’s supplier? I believe that to be the most logical first step in locating his extraterrestrial ship.”

Julia nodded. “Onça Feroz and Bandido succeeded in following a truck back to the source only a few days ago. We are ready to move on the farm, but Onça Feroz requests your assistance to portal her team to the location in order to maintain the element of surprise. Can you help?”

Max glanced over at Sabrina before nodding. “I will portal to your temple tomorrow to assist in the mission,” he agreed. “Tonight, however, I am previously occupied.”


	20. Peru Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max has a breakthrough, and the American Team makes a discovery

As they walked hand-in-hand from the Mansion back to Sabrina’s apartment building, Max found himself feeling nervous in spite of himself. Even with all of Sabrina’s reassurances to the contrary, could her parents be upset or disappointed regarding their status?

“You really don’t have anything to worry about,” Sabrina assured him, squeezing his hand. “Dad promised that he wouldn’t meet us at the door with his shotgun!”

Max grinned sheepishly. “I admit, the thought had crossed my mind that crossing a police officer’s daughter could be bad for my health,” he noted. “Although, were that to be the case I would have expected it to occur before now!” He looked over at her curiously. “Why are they suddenly so insistent?” he asked. “I am sorry I never had the opportunity before now, but it is a bit of a surprise.”

Sabrina shrugged. “Dad has seemed troubled for the last week,” she answered, furrowing her brows. She put her key in the apartment building door to let them up. “His emotions have been all off since that incident with the Reindeer. But then this morning suddenly… poof. He felt really content. Resolved, maybe.”

Max nodded as Sabrina opened the door to her apartment and led the way inside. The moment he was inside he recognized the smell of pot roast and his mouth started watering. Captain Raincomprix was sitting in an armchair in the living room with a beer as they entered, and waved for Max to take a seat on the couch across from him. When Sabrina started walking over to join him on the couch, however, her father told her, “I think your mother might need some help in the kitchen.”

Sabrina raised an eyebrow slightly, but gave Max a reassuring smile as she went to the kitchen. Max tried not to let his nerves show as he sat down on the edge of the couch and looked across at Sabrina’s father. They had been working together in a professional capacity for months now – at no time more so than recently with the Heroes’ increased anti-Lynchpin activity. And yet, that rarely involved meeting in-person, and Captain Raincomprix exclusively knew him as Pegasus in that context. Before he and Sabrina had started dating, he had only met her father a handful of times, and never in this intimate of a setting.

“So tell me about yourself, son,” he ordered Max. “Sabrina has told us a few things, but I always prefer to do my own investigation. She has spoken very highly of you of course. What do you do for fun?”

 _I have not had any time for “fun” in a month!_ Max almost replied. “I enjoy working with computers,” he answered instead. “Two years ago I began developing a video game based on Hawk Moth’s Akumas, and I was able to publish the first edition of it back in the spring, with an update released on Heroes’ Day. At the moment I am working on the coding for a second edition to include the Heroes as playable characters.”

Sabrina’s father nodded appreciatively. “Sabrina brought one of your demo disks home last fall for us to play,” he noted, raising his beer in a toast. “I admit, playing as my own Akumatized self was an interesting experience.”

“I hope it was enjoyable, sir?” Max asked nervously.

“Here you can just call me ‘Roger,’” he replied, giving a small smile. “And it was certainly enjoyable. We haven’t tried any of the newer Akuma characters yet, but I am looking forward to it, especially if someday we’ll be able to actually beat Hawk Moth in the game! Have you considered making a career of game design?”

Max shrugged. “I have considered it,” he admitted. “I have also considered working to further develop artificial intelligence – that is very much a growing field and one in which I have a strong interest. However, I am unsure if either of those is truly the ideal use of my skills.”

Roger nodded. “That seems to be a common answer lately,” he observed wryly. “I asked Sabrina if she was still considering applying to the police next year, and she said she didn’t know anymore. Of course,” he added, “I am starting to wonder if she isn’t better suited to a career that allows her to make us of a _different_ method of helping people.”

Max frowned and was about to ask what career he had in mind, when Sabrina stepped into the living room. “Dinner’s ready,” she called.

Max and Roger followed her into the kitchen, where Sabrina’s mother, Irene, was just finishing serving the food. “Here you are, dear,” she told Max, handing him a plate. “I am so sorry it’s taken so long for you to be able to come over for dinner! Especially with your mother away. We will have to have you over more often for home-cooked meals! But what have you been eating lately?”

Max laughed as they sat down around the kitchen table, Sabrina taking the seat next to him. “Mme Lê has been keeping me well fed,” he assured her. “I have dinner at Kim’s house at least a few times every week. And I have appreciated the leftovers Sabrina brings me. Beyond that, all of our school friends have been very helpful, so I have not been wanting for meals.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” Irene said, sounding relieved. “And how is your mother?”

“She is doing extremely well on her mission!” Max replied, grinning. “We are able to speak every week, and apart from the incident on the first day of her mission she has enjoyed it immensely.”

“It was so scary what happened to her ship,” observed Irene. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you to watch that.”

Max nodded. That had been an especially scary moment, watching his mother’s Soyuz capsule spin out of control following a collision with a previously-unknown cloud of space debris. Sensing Max’s discomfort, Sabrina put her hand over his.

“It’s a good thing Pegasus was able to save them,” Roger commented. Max did not think he imagined the calculating look in Roger’s eyes as he watched their reactions.

“If not for his intervention, there was only a 3% chance that the capsule would have been recovered,” Max agreed.

“So what are your thoughts on the Heroes of Paris then, son?” asked Roger, eyeing him curiously.

Max froze. “I… think the people of Paris owe Ladybug and Cat Noir a great debt for defeating Hawk Moth,” he began delicately, staring intently at the badge embroidered on Roger’s chest. “I think that since his defeat they have accomplished some important feats, although they cannot be expected to stop every crime that happens in the city. For most crimes, the regular police are more than sufficient. However, there are an increasing number of criminals with abilities that the police are ill-equipped to face, and which the police cannot be expected to confront. Both the police and the Heroes of Paris have different resources and different parts to play in keeping our city safe.” He finally glanced up at Roger’s face nervously.

“I suppose that’s a very diplomatic way of putting that,” Roger observed, chuckling. “I guess that _was_ a bit of a loaded question, coming from a cop.” He sighed and shook his head. “To be honest, my opinion of the Heroes has changed several times in the last few years. At first I thought Ladybug was a nuisance, getting in the way of real police work. The law is intended to handle criminals – we don’t need people carrying out vigilante justice and turning our streets into a war zone! Of course, I had to change my tune pretty quickly when the _criminals_ were the ones turning the city into a war zone or worse. Perhaps the police could deal with an Akuma victim like M. Pigeon on our own, but the moment Hawk Moth created a mermaid capable of sinking the city, or a witch who could alter the climate, suddenly the police were entirely outmatched. Then Hawk Moth was defeated and I thought maybe the Heroes should hang up their masks and enjoy a well-deserved retirement… only to find out that there was even worse out there – and these monsters are acting of their own free will, not because of a voice in their head! Now I get to be the Heroes’ go-to police contact, and I find myself coordinating on a regular basis with someone capable of dropping heroes out of the sky at a moment’s notice!”

“I… cannot imagine that this is what you expected when you became a police officer,” Max observed hesitantly. Sabrina stifled a giggle.

Roger chuckled ruefully. “Not really,” he admitted. “But I am still serving and protecting my city, so in that sense I suppose this is exactly what I got into law enforcement to do. But on to cheerier subjects: tell me, do you enjoy _traveling_?”

The rest of the meal passed in idle conversation before Irene cleared away the dishes to finish preparing their dessert. Roger leaned back in his chair, sighed, and commented, “I was very impressed by your Super Akuma Battle game: you included every Akuma Hawk Moth ever created, which in itself is quite a feat. Some of what you used, I don’t think anyone outside the Heroes of Paris could have known.”

Max sat very still. He had planned out a reasonable explanation if anyone asked about the accuracy level of his game, but this did not sound like simple curiosity. And he doubted that Roger would accept the Ladyblog as his source of information – a few of the Akumas had not received more than a passing mention on there.

“However,” Roger continued, “there is one part of it that your Super Akuma Battle game wasn’t able to capture.”

“What is that?”

“The confusion and powerlessness associated with being used by Hawk Moth.” He frowned, staring down at the table. “You feel that you have all the power in the world, but you can only do with it what the voice in your head says. You know that Sabrina and I were both Akumatized on several occasions.”

Max nodded. “I was, as well.”

“The only mercy to it was the memory loss,” Roger continued quietly. “I don’t remember anything of my Akumatization. I heard that voice, felt the power wash over me, and the next thing I knew, Ladybug and Cat Noir were standing over me, having released me from the Akuma’s power.” He let out a snort of laughter. “In a way I’m glad the new Butterfly hero has taken a different approach and used less Akumas this year.” His eyes drifted across the table to Sabrina as he spoke. “Has it happened to you yet?” he asked Max.

“If it had, I am certain it would have been mentioned on the Ladyblog,” Max replied evasively. “Alya keeps a very comprehensive list of Impératrice Pourpre’s helpers.” She had dedicated almost an entire week to analyzing his rescue of the Soyuz capsule and what Pegasus’ suddenly-augmented power level might mean.

Roger nodded, smiling wistfully. “It happened to me last week,” he explained. “My men and I were ambushed by a new miraculous user, and Impératrice Pourpre sent me an Akuma. She is quite a remarkable young woman. Unlike Hawk Moth, she gave me the choice of whether or not to accept her help – she saved me, and she allowed me to save the rest of the officers with me. It was… a night-and-day difference from Hawk Moth. No coercion, no anger, just a gentle, encouraging voice in my head. And unlike with Hawk Moth, I remember everything about the experience… even the voice.” He laughed. “The girl who could be given that level of power – a power which held Paris spellbound over a two-year reign of terror – and would only use that power to help and protect people? That is a special girl.” He met Sabrina’s gaze as he said it, and Max could see the light pink coloring in her cheeks as her mouth opened slightly in surprise. Then Roger turned to look at Max and added, gravely, “I hope that those who work the closest with her appreciate that and keep her safe.”

Max’s eyes widened, but only for a moment before he nodded in acknowledgement. He met Sabrina’s gaze and smiled. “I am absolutely certain that they do.”


	21. Peru Chapter 2

After lunch the next day, Pegasus stood just outside his lab with an overnight bag over one shoulder and a second duffel slung over the other shoulder. He concentrated on the coordinates within the American Miraculous Temple that Julia had given him and opened a portal. Through the portal he saw yellow stone walls with metal tables pushed up against them, loaded down with scientific equipment – including several pieces which the Heroes of Paris still did not own. Two large computer monitors hung from one wall, with another computer at a desk along the other wall. A woman with dark hair and a dark tan sat in front of that computer, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand, and rose the moment the portal opened.

“You are lucky I normally wake up early,” the woman observed in English, arching an eyebrow as she shook Pegasus’ hand firmly. “The cooks have not prepared breakfast yet!”

“I apologize for the early hour,” he replied, closing the portal behind himself and de-transforming. He fished an apple out of his pocket for Kaalki and looked more closely at the American. “I believe we have met before?”

“Your Heroes’ Day,” she explained. “You brought Alpac-Man, Espina, and myself to your Headquarters in case you had any trouble.”

Max nodded. “We were grateful for your assistance that day – and even more grateful that your presence was ultimately unnecessary!”

“Paola,” she introduced herself, indicating an empty table where he could place his bags. “Or Onça Feroz, ‘Ferocious Jaguar.’ I guess you would call me the team’s ‘techie.’” She grinned.

“Max.” He laughed. “That is my position on our team, as well,” he told her.

“Then you know my struggle,” she commented melodramatically. “‘Hey, Paola, can you modify our truck to be amphibious? And invisible? And hover?’ ‘Hey, Paola, why do we not have jetpacks yet?’ I have only been in this position a few months; give me a break!”

Max grinned. “Give the team _one_ breakthrough and it is a miracle. Give the team a _dozen_ , and it is Tuesday!” He gave her a look of surprise. “ _Have_ you designed a cloaking device with sufficient range to hide a vehicle?”

She shook her head. “Not yet,” she answered with a frown. “Making it amphibious was simple enough once I redesigned the wheels and modified the axles to serve as propellers – hover capability took another redesign to the chassis. But a cloaking device is still beyond my capability – even if I _could_ bend the light waves around the vehicle, I still have not found an energy source powerful enough to run it. If you have any ideas I would welcome the collaboration.”

Max nodded in acknowledgement. “I can certainly help you with the power source. The alien power sources with which we have been experimenting are certainly sufficient for the purpose.”

“But what about yourself?” she asked, eyeing him curiously. “Julia has said that you are developing a technological version of your Voyage ability?”

“Max is going to solve the problem by the end of the century!” Kaalki commented, grinning. “Though why you need this thing when you have me…”

“I certainly hope it will not take that long!” Max replied, eyes widening.

“What is the problem?” asked Paola.

He shrugged. “Based on Kaalki’s description, the closest analog to her portal ability that the laws of physics allow is a variation of quantum entanglement,” he explained, opening his duffel and setting one of the portal rings on a lab table. Turing activated and flew out of the bag at the same time. “The ring incorporates entangled particles which resonate to form the portal.” He gave Turing a nod, and the ring began to hum. A white glow emanated from the ring, and through it his lab became visible. Sabrina sat in her accustomed stool in the lab, skimming through something on a tablet, but she looked up and waved the moment the portal generator turned on.

“Impressive!” Paola observed, nodding.

“I cannot hear you very well,” Sabrina stated, her voice coming through muffled. She stared intently at something on the tablet, eyes darting rapidly across the screen. “But according to the readings, the generator is operating correctly.”

“Sabrina, this is Paola,” Max explained, gesturing to the woman next to him. “She was one of the Americans from Heroes’ Day – Onça Feroz.”

“It is nice to formally meet you,” Paola told her, grinning. “So your team has two tech people?”

“Not really,” Sabrina replied. She giggled. “I help Max when he needs it, but half the time it is like he is speaking an entirely different language!”

“You are far more helpful than that!” Max assured her, smiling. He laughed. “You do not need to understand quantum physics to assist in this project.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes and turned to Paola. “My miraculous enables me to read emotions,” she explained. “So most of the time I monitor our team’s emotional state. Max is the one who designs the portal generators and energy gauntlets and the like.”

“And yet, you were the one who figured out how Lynchpin was disguising his shipments,” argued Max.

“I just gave you the idea; _you_ were the one who figured out how to identify them.”

“That never would have worked without your idea.” His smiled widened as he saw her blush.

A chuckle next to him reminded Max that they weren’t alone. “The two of you,” Paola sighed. “Should I give you some privacy? The way you talk, it is like you are almost opposites. Max is the reason; Sabrina is the emotion.”

Max frowned. “Sabrina is more than that,” he insisted.

“I realize that,” Paola assured him, nodding. “It is nothing but a gross oversimplification.” She picked up a pen off the lab table and held it a centimeter away from the portal’s horizon. “Now what happens if I put this through? Will it pass?”

“You may make the attempt,” Max told her, “but we have yet to have a successful attempt.”

Paola pushed the pen through and, as with their previous experiments, the pen emerged from the other side of the portal blackened and burnt. She pulled the pen back and examined the end closely. “ _Fascinante_ ,” she muttered, rubbing a bit of the charring off onto her finger and sniffing it cautiously.

“Some dust came through the portal again,” Sabrina reported, running a finger through it and holding it up to the portal.

“May I see the inside mechanism?” asked Paola, turning to Max.

He nodded and gave Turing a look. The portal disappeared as the device shut off. Once it had cooled, he turned it on its side, took the offered wrench, and removed the housing to reveal the internal wiring. He was relieved to see that everything appeared to still be in proper working order and none of the components were smoking.

Paola picked up a thin metal rod and delicately moved a few of the wires to the side to examine the connections, muttering to herself in Portuguese. “If I understand it correctly, these wires carry the charge through the particles that form the quantum entanglement?” Max nodded. “Light and sound can pass through, but not matter – or not entirely… The other ring is an exact replica of this one, correct?”

“Yes,” Max confirmed. “Everything is identical between the two units.”

“Have you considered reversing the polarity on the charge?” she suggested, glancing up at him. “After all, opposites do attract.”

Max furrowed his brow and stared into the device. Could it be that simple? He had been treating the portal generators as two separate devices, but what if that was incorrect? The idea behind the portal generator was that it formed a single portal in two different locations by creating resonance within particles existing simultaneously in the different locations. Perhaps the particles themselves needed to have opposite charges… He grabbed a tiny screwdriver, unhooked two wires, and flipped them around before reattaching the housing. “Turing, activate the devices, but be ready to shut them off if something goes wrong.”

The portal generator whirred back to life, and he looked through the window it created to see Sabrina looking at him curiously. “The readings are different but still within the parameters,” she reported, her voice coming through much more clearly.

“I show all devices operating optimally,” chirped Turing.

“Why do I hear you so much better?” asked Sabrina, cocking her head in surprise.

“I have a theory…” Paola began slowly, handing Max a pencil.

Max held the pencil up to the portal, but hesitated. This could finally solve the problem he had been working on for months! All of that effort, finally about to pay off! But if this didn’t work, he could still be stuck working on the same impossible problem. Holding his breath, he plunged the pencil into the portal horizon.

He nearly dropped it when he saw the end sticking out of the other portal generator. Sabrina reached out, grabbed the pencil, and pulled it out of his hand, through the portal. She grinned ecstatically as she stared at the pencil and then back at Max. “You did it!” she squealed.

Max whooped and pumped his fist. “Now pass it back!”

Sabrina flipped the pencil around and, more confidently, pressed it against the portal horizon. Nothing happened. Max watched her frown and poke at it again with no success. “It’s… bouncing off the portal,” she announced. “Does that mean it will only work one way?”

Max frowned. Bouncing off the portal… as though something was blocking it. For some reason that sounded like a phenomenon he had encountered previously. “Is Ladybug at Headquarters?” he asked. “Or Cat Noir, Lupa Gris, or Ayilon?”

“Actually, Lise is in the grotto with Marco,” Sabrina answered. She disappeared for a minute, only to return with Lise in tow.

“¡Paola! ¿Qué pasa?” called Lise, grinning.

“I have a hypothesis,” Max explained. “The temples are protected from unwanted visitors, a protection which also affects my ability to open a portal in a temple I have not previously visited. If that applies to the portal generators, as well, then it would prevent Sabrina, who has never visited this temple, from entering, while Lise, who came from this temple, would have no trouble.”

Lise nodded and accepted the pencil that Sabrina held out to her. She held it up to the portal and it passed straight through the portal. Max took the pencil and held it up: it looked no worse for wear from having passed through the portal twice. “That would seem to prove my hypothesis,” he commented. “Unfortunately, that does limit the usefulness of the portals.”

“I have an idea!” Sabrina shouted, jumping up and racing from the lab. Max looked at Lise in confusion, but the girl just shrugged. Five minutes later Sabrina returned with Julia. “You said that the Temple Guardians could give access to their temples, right?” she asked.

Max nodded.

Sabrina turned to Julia. “What if you do the same thing with the portal generator that you do at the temple? It worked for you to give Max access to the temple via portal; perhaps it will work on this, too!”

Julia’s eyes lit up in understanding, and she placed her left hand on the top of the portal generator. Sabrina found a pen on the lab table and carefully held it up to the portal horizon. Max held his breath as Sabrina slowly pushed the pen through the portal.

“You did it!” Sabrina clapped in excitement.

“Actually, we all did it!” Max replied, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, the American Miraculous Team’s previous tech guy was John (Man-Bear), who was killed in “A Miraculous Adventure in America.” Paola was name-dropped in that story as the only member of the team (other than Lise) whose first language wasn’t English or Spanish.
> 
> The reference to three American heroes coming to Paris is to [“A Bittersweet Anniversary.”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25865851/chapters/62938444)


	22. Peru Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several of the ideas I used for the Raccoon Miraculous came from StarDaPanda225 (on FF.net). They didn’t come up with everything, and I didn’t use all their ideas, but at least some of it came from them.

After their success in miniature with the portal generator, Max worked with Paola to take the schematic for the miniature and reconfigure it to one in full-size, large enough for two people to pass through abreast. Following their mission, she would begin building the full-size ring for the American Temple, while he would build the matching ring in Paris. By the time they finished, it was after lunch in Peru, and Max needed a short nap before that afternoon’s mission.

Now Pegasus was back in the lab, standing with his back to the bank of computer screens and facing the small team that Onça Feroz had selected for their mission. El Bandido, the Raccoon Miraculous holder, was a shorter man in a black-and-grey suit with a bushy tail and a black mask covering his eyes. Next to him was Alpac-Man: the boy – probably no older than 14 – with the Alpaca Miraculous, who wore a light yellow suit with a hoop draped over his neck and one shoulder. Then there was Espina, the Porcupine Miraculous holder. She was a little older than Onça Feroz and had a light purple short-sleeved suit with short spines growing out of her back and a wrist guard on the inside of one forearm, her dark hair held up in a tight bun by a needle. Last was Onça Feroz herself, whose miraculous suit was yellow with brown patches, her dark hair held back in a long braid that reached down to her waist.

“We are ready,” Onça Feroz told Pegasus, tightening her grip on her tematlatl sling.

Pegasus nodded and concentrated on a location just inside the jungle surrounding the farm they would be raiding that night. “Voyage!” He punched the space between himself and the team, and a two-meter portal opened through which he could see a thick tangle of trees and vines. The American heroes jumped through the portal, followed by Turing and his two remaining drones. The moment they were through, Pegasus closed the portal and de-transformed.

“When can I expect to be able to utilize Voyage multiple times on a single transformation?” Max asked Kaalki, holding out a tray of apple slices for her. He turned back to the monitors showing the video feed from Turing and the drones while she ate.

The Kwami shrugged. “Can’t say for sure,” she replied, tossing an apple slice in the air and swallowing it whole. “It depends on the user. Older users get there faster than the younger ones, but they all move at their own pace. The more often you transform and use your ability, the more quickly you adapt to it. The first indicator is that you stay transformed longer after using your ability; the second is when you don’t need to de-transform at all after using it.”

“And if Ladybug and Cat Noir still only at the stage of not de-transforming after all their experience, I suspect I will not be there for at least two more years,” he observed, frowning.

“If you’re lucky.” Kaalki snorted. “It’s not the end of the world. Fighting with a single Voyage makes you fight smart.”

Max nodded reluctantly.

“And in the meantime, it’s a good thing you’ve got an ‘in’ with Impératrice Pourpre!” added Kaalki.

Max chuckled and transformed. It would not do for him to be untransformed if the American team needed an emergency evacuation. Turing’s feed showed that the mission was proceeding according to Onça Feroz’s plan. Three of her heroes had split up to surround the farm around the periphery of the fields, with Alpac-Man walking across the field, bent over double to avoid being seen, making his way toward the small number of laborers still at work in the field. As he reached the first one, he muttered, “Alpackify,” and tossed his hoop over the man’s head. The worker immediately straightened up, dropped his rake, and walked down the row to the next worker, whom he touched on the shoulder. The two split up, moving in opposite directions through the field to locate more workers. Before long Alpac-Man had “domesticated” all of the day laborers and sent them to sit in the middle of the field, safely away from any potential fighting.

Onça Feroz let out a breath. “Spot-Senses,” she whispered. Her pupils dilated slightly and she stuck her head up to search the area around her, shading her eyes with one hand. Closing her eyes she inhaled deeply, spun around, and ran to a spot near the edge of the jungle where a couple of the trees appeared to have been disturbed. “¡Bandido! ¡Mira!” she shouted, waving to El Bandido. Pegasus tasked one of his drones to follow El Bandido over to where Onça Feroz was standing. The drone’s scans showed nothing out of the ordinary, though there was a small scrape on the bark of one tree.

The two American heroes whispered together hurriedly in Spanish, Onça Feroz pointing at the trees and something on the ground just inside the closest row of coca plants. Pegasus tasked the drone to gain altitude. He could not understand what they were saying, but it sounded like an elevated perspective would prove useful. He sighed: this was not his team and he was not in the field, so he could abide by their rules – even if the team’s operation language was not one he understood.

El Bandido, meanwhile, withdrew a magnifying glass from his belt and muttered, “Mask and Answer.” He extended the handle on his magnifying glass and stared intently at the ground where Onça Feroz had pointed. Through the video feed, Pegasus could not tell what he was looking at, but he seemed to have found something. He let out a low whistle and turned his magnifying glass to face the farm buildings. He said something to Onça Feroz, and she pointed at the farm before racing in the opposite direction, deeper into the jungle. Pegasus ordered one drone to follow Onça Feroz, while Turing and the other drone joined El Bandido in proceeding further into the farm.

Espina and Alpac-Man joined El Bandido behind the building next to the barn which Onça Feroz had pointed at. Turing’s video feed showed a trio of men holding familiar energy rifles leaning against the barn in question, though none of them seemed to be paying close attention to their surroundings. Pegasus sent the drone around the back of the barn.

“There is another guard at the rear of the building,” Pegasus reported in English. El Bandido looked up at Turing and nodded before sneaking around the building toward the indicated guard, racing behind a semi trailer until he was less than three meters away.

“Estoy listo,” whispered El Bandido. “Tres, dos, ¡uno!”

At the same moment, El Bandido and Espina acted. El Bandido jumped out from behind the trailer, planted the handle of his magnifying glass, and vaulted into his guard’s chest, knocking him to the ground with a thud. Espina stepped out from behind cover, her bow in one hand, and shouted, “Spinal Shower!” She pulled a handful of spines from her back, laid them flat along the bow, and fired. All three men were pinned to the wall by spines through their clothing in a single volley. Their energy rifles clattered to the ground, unused. Alpac-Man ran over and kicked the rifles away from them into a heap well out of their reach.

As the three American heroes disarmed their prisoners, Pegasus’ attention was drawn to the third video feed by a gasp of surprise. He glanced over to see Onça Feroz standing over a small pit in the ground with a felled tree lying next to it. “Do you see this, Pegasus?” she asked him in English, looking up at the drone.

Pegasus nodded and sent the command for the drone to scan the crash site. “I see it, Onça Feroz,” he replied. “It does appear consistent with the crash site we found outside Paris. The pit is significantly shallower than the other one, however; while there is insufficient data to form a conclusion, the evidence at hand suggests that this pod must have struck something that slowed its descent abruptly before it hit the ground.”

“There are a few large trees broken off surrounding the pit,” Onça Feroz reported. “It smells like something cut this one in half, and not cleanly.”

“I think we found the thing that did it,” called El Bandido. Pegasus returned to the other video feeds to see the three Americans standing inside of the barn, in front of a too-familiar shape.

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” breathed Pegasus. While he had hypothesized that another alien craft may have landed here, staring at irrefutable evidence of the correctness of that hypothesis was almost too much to handle. While the drone scanned the craft from the outside, Turing flew above it and descended through the hatch. On his video feed Pegasus could see the interior of the ship, entirely stripped to the bare walls. Although his heart knew it was unnecessary, he still turned to read the scan data. “It is indeed an alien craft, identical to the one we found,” he announced finally.

Onça Feroz hummed contemplatively and made her way back to the farm clearing, leaving the drone behind to catalogue the crash site. “What do you recommend that we do with it, Pegasus?” she asked. “Should we leave it in the Lynchpin’s hands?”

Pegasus frowned. “That would be unwise,” he finally answered. “Although he has already recovered all the components, he may still be able to make something of the shell – a heat-resistant Mecha-Man armor, for example. With your permission, I will open a portal so your people can push the craft directly into your lab.”

“Do you have to?” asked Onça Feroz wryly. “There really is not that much extra space.”

“I can bring it to Paris when I leave, if that is acceptable to you.”

Onça Feroz laughed. “In truth, I think I would _prefer_ that!”


	23. Interlude 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is coming to a head

Max carefully mounted the ring assembly inside the housing and nodded for Turing and Markov to hold it in place. Sabrina handed him a screwdriver, and the two of them worked their way around the ring, fastening the screws to secure the ring in place within the housing. After the months of effort perfecting the miniature version, it was surreal to think that he had almost completed the full-size model of his portal generator. While it would require further testing to determine whether the portals would truly work – the slightest variation in construction between his ring and Paola’s could break the quantum entanglement and lead to cascade failure – he remained cautiously optimistic.

He had returned to Paris three days earlier along with the alien vessel’s empty shell, which he had placed alongside the intact vessel outside his lab. Since his return, he had spent almost every waking moment working on building the full-size portal ring. Paola had sent him a message an hour earlier that her ring was finished, and it was time for him to catch up.

“Please pass me the pliers,” he instructed Sabrina. He delicately attached the leads to their respective attachments, twisted the ends to hold them in place, and tested to make sure they wouldn’t move. Kaalki handed him the solder gun, and he placed a dab on each spot to secure the wires in place. Satisfied, he took his hand off the assembly, and Sabrina helped him lift it upright: he did not hear anything shift inside. Nooroo passed him the final two screws, and he secured the housing in place.

“It’s finished!” Sabrina squealed excitedly, throwing her arm around him.

“Almost!” he agreed, grinning widely. He hugged her back and gave her a peck on the lips. “Now we must still test the processor and ensure that the two units are communicating properly. But considering the probability of failure in this entire project, I still cannot believe we did it!”

“I can believe it,” she assured him. “You’re smart enough to accomplish just about anything when you apply yourself to it.”

He chuckled but gave her a serious look. “I would not have accomplished this without your help,” he told her. “You were far more confident in our chances of success than I was.”

She smiled and leaned in for a longer kiss.

“I have tested the processing unit and it is functioning within parameters,” Markov interrupted, whirring excitedly. “Time delay for a response from the Peru unit is 110 picoseconds.”

Max grinned sheepishly. “Back to work.”

Sabrina nodded and consulted her tablet to check the readings on the portal device. “The ring is reading correctly,” she reported. “I–” She stopped as a notification chimed. “We just received the latest information from Dad.”

“Let us take a look.”

* * *

“There is no doubt about it: Lynchpin has been hurt by our interdiction efforts,” Max announced. All seven members of the Heroes of Paris “Council” were sitting together at their conference table, joined by Yousef, who had returned via portal with Chloe, and Julia. In the last three days, they had stopped another three of Lynchpin’s smuggling runs, although one raid had failed and they had allowed another shipment to get through without incidence. Max gave Markov a nod, and the holographic display on the conference table activated. “This chart shows the Paris Police Prefecture’s statistics for drug-related incidents. The number was at an all-time high before our interdiction operation began, but it has dropped markedly in the last month. The market value of the specific drugs Lynchpin sells has increased, and the relative purity of Lynchpin’s products has decreased as he has altered his ratios in an attempt to stretch his remaining supply.”

“So it’s working,” Adrien observed. “Great! It’s a good thing we opened the first rehab center three weeks ago.”

“I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming, though,” Chloe cut in, arching an eyebrow.

“There is _definitely_ a ‘but’ coming,” confirmed Sabrina, grimacing. She nodded to Max.

Max switched the display. “Based on computer projections, Lynchpin’s supply is lower now than any time in the last six months,” he explained. “However, I estimate that he still has enough supply in reserve to survive through the end of the summer. And the Archimedes Program has identified another fifteen shipments currently en route, which would suffice to restore his supply to normal levels, should they all reach Paris.”

“That is not all,” Julia told them, Turing translating for her. “Velocimonio and Coyotemaria overheard the driver from the farm talking to the port workers about a large shipment waiting to be delivered. Onça Feroz checked, and it is not at the farm.”

“So all we’ve done is force him to smuggle more of his stuff?” asked Nino. “Dude…”

“It is basic economics,” Max replied, shrugging. “We have hurt his supply, so he must increase the volume of his smuggling in order to keep up with the demand.”

“This does give us a major opportunity,” Alya noted. “It sounds like he’s pretty much on the ropes. If we cut his supply off in its entirety right now and keep him out of business long enough, he’ll be set back for a while!”

“So how do we deal him that crippling blow, then?” asked Chloe, cracking her knuckles.

Max nodded. “That is the question. The shipment we failed to stop had trackers on all the crates, and the trackers are now at three different warehouses in Paris. Simultaneous raids on all three locations would potentially cut off his stock in the city.”

“We tried that once, though,” Nino pointed out. “It almost turned into a bloodbath for the cops.” He gave an apologetic look when Sabrina shuddered. “What if it goes the same way this time?”

“And that only solves part of the problem,” added Alya. “He still has those drugs that are on the way.”

“If we can eliminate his entire supply line at once, I calculate that will be the crippling blow we need,” Max told them.

“What you’re saying is that we need to hit three warehouses in Paris, along with all the containers in transit, all at once?” Chloe arched an eyebrow dubiously. “Don’t ask _too_ much there!”

“I have an idea,” Marinette announced, looking around the table. “But we’ll need everyone. We can’t leave the police on their own against Lynchpin’s people, just in case any of the Lynchpin-ions are there, so we send three teams of heroes to the warehouses to help the police. You can coordinate that, right?” She looked over at Max.

With a glance at Sabrina, who gave him an encouraging smile, Max slowly nodded. “We can handle that. What about contingencies?”

Marinette brought up the Heroes’ roster on the conference table’s holoprojector and began swiping through it to select teams. “With luck we won’t need backup, or the police will be able to back us up. But we’ll have a fourth team here that you can deploy if we need them.”

“Like the Victory Garden,” Adrien added, nodding.

“Hopefully with a better result,” Marinette confirmed.

“And the drugs in transit?” asked Nino.

“It may be time to make _offensive_ use of our backdoor access to the shipping control office computers,” Max suggested. “Concurrent with the raids we upload a virus to erase all data on the shipments in transit after forwarding that information to us. I estimate at least two weeks to reconstruct the information and identify the correct containers, although if the markings on the containers are removed and replaced with fakes at the same time, then that increases to two months before Lynchpin is able to locate his containers on the docks in Honfleur – more than enough time for the dock authorities to confiscate them.”

Marinette gave Yousef and Julia an appraising look. “Can your teams handle removing the ID numbers from the containers?” she asked.

Julia chuckled. “That will not be a problem for us. Velocimonio lives for that type of mission!”

Yousef frowned and looked over at Chloe, who shrugged. “With assistance from your teammates, yes, we can handle this,” he answered, nodding.

Marinette nodded. “So we have three teams of four heroes to help the police seize the three warehouses in Paris. The African and American teams disrupt Lynchpin’s shipments at the canals waiting to be brought over, and Max will do his computer thing to ‘lose’ the containers that haven’t arrived yet. If we manage all of those things at the same time, Lynchpin will have no idea what hit him!”

“What about the large shipment he appears already to have nearby?” asked Julia. “What will you do about that?”

“Based on shipping schedules and interdiction, there are at least three shipments currently waiting in the Rouen warehouse to be smuggled into Paris,” Max offered.

Alya hummed. “Even if we are successful here, he _could_ just bring all of that down from Rouen.”

“You know,” Adrien began thoughtfully, “the fact that it’s in Rouen instead of Paris might work to our advantage. We already have a fourth team that isn’t going on a raid. What if we actually use them to raid the warehouse in Rouen? We send in the three teams with the police in Paris and then, when we know how those three raids are going and that they are under control, we send the backup team to Rouen? Then, even if Lynchpin gets a warning when we make the move in Paris, he won’t have time to do anything more at the warehouse in Rouen.”

Marinette shifted a few people around on the teams. “That sounds like it could work,” she agreed.

Sabrina cleared her throat. “If this works, we could put Lynchpin out of the drug business for good! That would be amazing!”

Max grinned. “All our hard work this summer may pay off!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Velocimonio and Coyotemaria have the Roadrunner and Coyote Miraculous respectively. The Roadrunner Miraculous is one of two Miraculous of Speed: the Roadrunner’s top speed is slower but it can travel for a longer time; the Cheetah’s top speed is faster but it can’t travel for as long. Velocimonio (“Speed Demon”) and Coyotemaria haven’t actually appeared in the series yet, but take a wild guess why those two are teamed up for this!


	24. Battle Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes to a head

Pegasus stood in front of the wall of computer monitors in his lab, all of which displayed split-screen feeds from six different security cameras each. Markov and Turing hovered on either side of him, their own displays activated. In addition to the police traffic cameras, Pegasus had also finished building a quartet of new drones the day before, one of which he had sent with each of their three teams to their warehouses. The three teams of heroes had arrived at their rally points five minutes earlier; all that was missing were the police officers who would assist them. On the other side of the lab, Impératrice Pourpre had two tablets set up in front of her, connected with the American and African teams that were waiting for the signal to begin their part of the operation.

In the security feeds showing the three warehouses in question, all three looked roughly identical: nondescript commercial buildings approximately ten meters in height, set against the riverfront with a short dock jutting out into the Seine. Each building had two doors large enough for semi trailers on the side opposite the river. The loading yards in front of the warehouses were all clear of obstructions to a distance of 40 meters, with shipping containers and wrecked cars placed strategically beyond that distance. The cameras showed no movement from any of the locations. Pegasus glanced at another display: there was a low level of power usage at the warehouses.

“Onça Feroz says that Velocimonio and Coyotemaria are in position and waiting for our signal,” Impératrice Pourpre reported, not looking up from her tablets. “Sent-Bee and her team are ready.”

“Captain Raincomprix and his men are in position,” chirped Markov.

Pegasus nodded and thumbed his communicator to the open channel, his finger hovering over the button to deploy his virus. “Commence the operation in three, two, one… now!” On that signal, the screens in front of him lit up with activity.

At the first warehouse, Taureau Dechaine turned the corner five blocks away and charged down the street, gaining momentum as he went. Three windows along the front of the warehouse smashed outward as the men inside the warehouse saw him and all concentrated fire on him. Taureau Dechaine withdrew the cattle prod from his back, spun it in front of himself as a shield, but did not slow down. Two police vans turned onto the street behind him, raced after him, and stopped on reaching the entrance to the loading yard, forming a barricade. Police officers spilled out of the vans and began firing past Taureau Dechaine at the warehouse guards. When he was halfway across the loading yard, Taureau Dechaine lowered his head and bellowed, “Stampede!” With a final burst of speed he slammed through the center warehouse door, which tore from its hinges and flew across the room. At the same moment, Rena Rouge and Multiplice appeared out of thin air on the warehouse roof as Rena Rouge’s Mirage wore off, and the two heroes crashed through upper windows on opposite sides of the warehouse. Pegasus gave a command, and the drone followed Rena Rouge through the shattered window into the brightly-lit main room.

Simultaneously, Viperion, King Monkey, Ayilon, and the Heretic charged the second warehouse from two different directions. As the guards inside the warehouse separated and opened up on them, King Monkey picked up Ayilon and threw her in a high arc so she landed on the warehouse roof. No sooner had she landed than she drew her bow and yelled, “Plec-Drone!” She ran her bow along the edge of the roof, and the entire warehouse began to vibrate and thrum. The energy weapons inside the warehouse ceased firing instantly. Pegasus winced: even the noise-canceling built into the miraculous communicators could not entirely deaden the cacophony. King Monkey in the lead, the other three burst through the warehouse door.

Lupa Gris, Geber, and the Owl appeared from behind the warehouse next to their target, and approached cautiously from its left side. The guards inside the warehouse responded by focusing their fire on the Owl, who whipped his cape in front of himself as a shield. The first several energy beams dissipated across the length of the fabric before it started emitting little wisps of smoke from the edges. By that time, however, the barrels of the energy rifles had all been sliced clean off. Bengalia appeared at the far corner of that wall, where she stuck one of her claws through the space between the door and the jamb and cut through the deadbolt. Geber kicked the door open, and the four heroes charged inside.

“Whatever you did with this cape, it worked remarkably well!” the Owl observed, giving the drone hovering above his head an appreciative node.

“Heat-resistant mesh sewn into the fabric,” replied Pegasus, grinning. “However, I would caution you to avoid stress-testing it while _wearing_ it. I have not had the opportunity to find its limit yet.”

“Lupa Gris reports minimal resistance,” Turing stated. “Viperion reports the same. No Dark Acolytes at either location.”

Pegasus furrowed his brow and examined the drone feed from inside Rena Rouge’s warehouse. Aside from the three men who had fired on Taureau Dechaine, only two more workers were visible inside the warehouse. All five had already surrendered the moment the Heroes breached the warehouse walls and surrounded them. The warehouse itself was largely empty, apart from the broken-down remains of two wooden crates as well as a conveyor belt along the far wall. Shifting to the other drones, the story at the other two warehouses was the same: a minimal number of guards and other workers inside, and little evidence of the drugs and contraband Lynchpin had stored there. “This makes little sense…” he muttered to himself.

Looking across the room at Impératrice Pourpre, she had the same worried look on her face that must have been on his. “Why wouldn’t there be anything there?” she wondered. “We confirmed it yesterday; what could have happened to change it?”

Pegasus shook his head in confusion. “It could be a coincidence: he elects to move his drugs to a different location as a precaution. However, abandoning three warehouses simultaneously hours before scheduled police raids is too coincidental – the odds of just _one_ are only 20% based on his previous operations; for all three to be abandoned… Based on available evidence, Lynchpin must have discovered our plan,” Pegasus replied, his frown deepening. “But how could he have learned it?”

Impératrice Pourpre’s jaw dropped, her eyes growing wide. “Dad has known the plan since we made it…”

Pegasus shook his head and leaned over to cover her hand with his. “Do not jump to that conclusion just yet. If Lynchpin had known for that long, it is statistically likely that he would have arranged a trap of some variety, at least at _one_ of the warehouses, if not all three. However, it appears that the warehouses were just… empty. The evidence suggests that he has not known about our plan for long–”

She gasped. “My dad briefed his men this morning!” she told him, wide-eyed. “He mentioned it at breakfast.”

Pegasus muttered a curse. “We must have missed a mole!” he groaned, shifting computer feeds to search traffic camera footage since the morning.

“What should we do now?” demanded Rena Rouge, an irritated edge to her voice.

Pegasus groaned, clenching one hand into a fist: how was he supposed to know that? He did not have any answers for her yet – for anyone, for that matter. He switched channels on his communicator. “Captain, when did you brief your men?” he asked curtly.

“Two hours ago,” Raincomprix replied, confused. “Why?”

He didn’t have time to respond. Plugging the information into a program, Pegasus ran the simulation. All of their planning, and they may still fail to deal the major blow to Lynchpin and his drug dealing operation! “Examine all camera feeds to which we have access, based on this tracking model,” he ordered Turing.

“Rena Rouge wants to know what to do now,” Markov informed him.

“I know!” he retorted, glaring at the robot, which drifted away from him. He felt Impératrice Pourpre squeeze his hand and closed his eyes for a moment. “Tell her… to search the warehouse for clues,” he finally answered. The probability of Lynchpin’s people leaving anything behind was no more than 25%, but it was still possible for them to make a mistake. “And task the drones to scan all the warehouses inside and out, as well as the surrounding area,” he added as an afterthought. On the screen, he watched the Heroes at the three warehouses looking around at each other, moving aimlessly.

Impératrice Pourpre moved her hand up to Pegasus’ shoulder and squeezed softly. “We can’t blame ourselves,” she whispered. “We are good, but our enemies are pretty good, too.”

His eyes still closed, Pegasus took a measured breath and reviewed the data. They had only observed these warehouses for 24 hours before acting on the information, but– His eyes shot open in realization and he hit a button. “Rena, it is unlikely that the equipment at your warehouse could have been moved in the available time,” he informed her briskly. “Check for any trapdoors in the floor.” Switching channels he ordered Geber, “Use Vigilance. It may locate the _enemies_ who were at that warehouse.”

“A semi truck left warehouse two 34 minutes ago,” Turing announced, displaying the traffic camera footage on his holoprojector. “It is still en route to its destination.”

“Send Viperion the location of that truck,” ordered Pegasus. At the same moment he received an alert from Rena Rouge.

“Multiplice found an elevator hidden in the floor,” Rena Rouge reported. Taureau Dechaine stood together near the center of the warehouse, while Rena Rouge guarded the two conscious prisoners who were sitting with their backs against the wall.

“Acknowledged,” Pegasus answered. “Be careful.” Switching channels he called Raincomprix. “Tell your men at warehouse one to advance cautiously. The perimeter is secure, but there may still be resistance inside. The contraband at warehouse two has been moved, and Viperion has the potential location of the vehicle carrying it.”

“We’re on it,” Raincomprix replied.

Across the traffic cameras an orange ring spread through the city, centered on warehouse three. The ring expanded to encompass three arrondissements before narrowing down into a single orange line that shot back in the direction of the warehouse. Pegasus flipped through traffic cameras to find the other end of the line: another warehouse near Boulevard Périphérique. As he watched, one of the men standing outside glanced down to see the orange line before turning to yell something into the warehouse. “Lupa, I am sending you the location for another warehouse,” Pegasus reported. “Vigilance has already alerted them that you are en route.”

“America reports no problems completing their missions,” Impératrice Pourpre reported, letting out a relieved breath. “The Africa team has met some resistance, but Sent-Bee says they can handle it.”

The police moved in to take positions at the doors of warehouse one and secure their prisoners while Rena Rouge, Taureau Dechaine, and the army of mini-Multiplice clones entered the hidden basement, the drone hovering above their heads. At the other two warehouses, the drones shot higher into the air to track the teams of heroes racing away after Lynchpin’s people, with police cruisers following in their wake.

The lab door opened behind Pegasus, and without turning around he asked, “I assume you have all been watching. What is your decision on Phase Two?”

Ladybug hummed. “Could Lynchpin’s mole have told him about the Rouen plan?”

Pegasus turned his back on the monitors, folded his arms, and shook his head. “We did not even inform Captain Raincomprix of the Rouen raid, so the mole cannot know about it,” he answered.

Ladybug furrowed her brow in thought. “In that case, let’s do it,” she decided. “But since the other three teams still haven’t finished their missions yet, Cat Noir and I should stay here as backup just in case.”

Pegasus nodded and followed her out into the butterfly garden, where the last team was waiting. “Voyage!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 actually takes place during this chapter and moves to Egypt. The “Dangling Voyage” gets resolved in Chapter 3.


	25. Battle Chapter 2

**The Suez Canal**

Sk8r Girl stopped in front of a stack of wooden pallets that workmen must have left out earlier in the day. She put out one hand to lean against the second shipping container in from the end of the lane and tightened the strap on her helmet with the other. Beside her, Sent-Bee fiddled with one of her yo-yos, her head turning back and forth to look up and down the lane. A pack of wild dogs that Sk8r Girl had recruited just outside the canal transfer facility was racing around them wildly, spread out from one end of the lane to the other. Bee-atrice perched proudly on the back of the largest dog, yipping at the others excitedly. Pegasus had given them a list of four containers waiting for transfer at the Suez Canal that needed their markings removed and replaced, of which they had already taken care of the two closest to the shipping yard entrance. The last two were at the far end of this lane, on the ground level on opposite sides of the pathway. Theoretically, it would be a simple matter of a few shots with the spray paint in Sk8r Girl’s bag and they would be on their way back to Cairo.

Theoretically.

“I smell something in this container!” yapped one of the dogs near the middle of the lane. The dog jumped up and down in excitement in front of a container that appeared to have a door cut into the side facing the lane. He wagged his tail excitedly before his hackles raised and his ears lay down flat against his skull. “It smells like… people!”

Sk8r Girl frowned. “We might have a problem here,” she muttered to Sent-Bee.

“What are you afraid of?” demanded Bee-atrice, glaring at the dog and letting out a high-pitched growl. “Was your mother a poodle!?!”

Sk8r Girl gave the puppy an unimpressed look. “You do realize he could eat you in one bite, right, squirt?”

“I’m not afraid of a stupid shipping container!” Bee announced, puffing her chest out.

“She had better not be planning anything stupid!” Sent-Bee warned her, giving Bee a look.

“Just her usual,” Sk8r Girl commented, snorting.

Over the communicators Harba announced, “You’re still clear – all the guards are on the far side of the loading area.”

“So if the guards are _there_ … who’s _here_?” Sk8r Girl wondered.

“There’s only one way to find out,” replied Sent-Bee, striding forward and splitting the distance to the container in question. “Time to stir up the beehive!” She threw her yo-yo at the side of the container. It ricocheted off the metal with a loud clang.

The makeshift door hatch flew open and a group of men burst out. One raised a rifle and fired, just as Sk8r-Girl dove for cover behind the stack of pallets. The spray of bullets smashed into the pallets, sending splinters in all directions. With a grunt, Sent-Bee landed next to Sk8r Girland pressed her back against the shipping container, leaning over to peer through the space between two pallets. The wild dogs scattered, racing down the lane past them and barking in agitation.

Bee-atrice jumped off the dog she’d been riding and landed on the ground in front of Sent-Bee. She hopped up and down agitatedly, glaring after the other dogs. “Get back here, you cowards!” she yipped, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rifles firing.

“What the hell are these guys doing here!?!” demanded Sent-Bee, raising and arm to cover her head and hold her ponytail down below the level of the pallets.

“What’s happening?” asked Impératrice Pourpre quickly over their communicators.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” replied Sent-Bee wryly. “Guys with guns between us and the last two containers we need to hit.”

“Lynchpin’s guys? Do they have energy weapons?”

“No, they just have the regular kind,” Sent-Bee reported, shouting to be heard over the cacophony of gunfire. “Probably just local muscle.”

“Do you need backup?”

“No, we’ve got it handled.”

Sk8r Girl raised her head slightly to look over the top of the stack before immediately ducking back down to avoid the hail of bullets sent in her direction. Wooden splinters flew over their heads, dinging off their helmets. But that single glance had shown her enough. The first man out of the container had been joined by another eight or nine, all of whom had fanned out in a line across the lane, standing between them and the two containers they needed to reach. “You consider this _handled_?” she shouted at Sent-Bee, glaring at her angrily.

Sent-Bee smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few _bullets_.”

“ _You_ can ‘take one for the team,’” Sk8r Girl retorted, turning back toward the pallets, “but personally I’d rather _avoid_ ‘acute lead poisoning’ today, Chlo! ‘Cuz last I checked, _these suits aren’t bulletproof!_ ”

A shadow appeared in front of Sk8r Girl, lessened, and disappeared seconds later as a light source flew over her head. Her visor automatically adjusted to compensate for the bright light that materialized in front of her, separating her and Sent-Bee from the men with guns. When her eyesight had adjusted, she recognized it as a white hash-tag. The object, no larger than a book when it spun past them, stopped moving and aligned itself perpendicular to the ground. It expanded rapidly until the ends touched the walls of the containers on either side of them before the lines widened to form a single textured white wall of light. The bullets still being fired at the light construct melted on impact, evaporating into the air. Several of the gunmen dropped their arms, pointing their rifles at the ground in front of their feet, and stared in shock at something behind the two heroes.

“Did someone call for backup?”

Sk8r Girl glanced back to see Amun-Vatar hovering around the level of the middle tier of shipping containers. He was supported from below by a small tornado and encircled by a pair of white hash-tags that spun rapidly around him. He held one hand out, palm up, an intricate white geometric design emanating from his fingertips. His face glowed brilliant gold, his eyes flaring bright white, though Sk8r Girl let out a quiet breath when she recognized his normal facial features through the golden coloration. So distracted was she by the dazzling brilliance of his appearance, she almost missed the burgundy figure that had just turned down the lane and charged past beneath him.

Her suit was far thicker than that used by any of the other miraculous heroes Sk8r Girl had worked with except perhaps Carapace, the suit covering her entire body from her chin to her toes and to the tips of her fingers, every centimeter of it covered with extra padding a centimeter thick. She wore a helmet on her head with a single curved white horn protruding from the forehead. Buq Hayij let out a bellow as she barreled past Amun-Vatar. In her headlong charge she narrowly missed the pallets behind which Sk8r Girl and Sent-Bee hid, lowered her head, planted her fists on the ground, and with a roar launched herself forward nearly parallel to the ground. Amun-Vatar spread his fingers to create a narrow opening in the light-wall before sweeping with his other hand. A gust of wind swept down the lane and picked up around Buq Hayij, lifting her from the ground and hurtling her headlong through the gap and into the line of gunmen beyond.

Sk8r Girl’s jaw dropped open as Buq Hayij slammed head-first into the first thug she met, planting her fist on him as he fell to the ground and twisting in midair, kicking the man next to him in the head before spinning completely around to land on her feet in a crouch, facing the rest of the crowd of men between her and the light-wall. A third man had fallen to her fists before the remaining men finally reacted to her sudden appearance. With her in the middle of their group, the remaining seven men raised their rifles. “We have watched from the sidelines for _far_ too long!” Buq Hayij declared, eyes flashing with anger. She flexed her fists and raised them in a defensive posture.

Sk8r Girl met Sent-Bee’s eye and they both nodded. With a shout they raced around the pallets behind which they had been hiding and charged the light-wall. Sk8r Girl reached it first and slid through on her knees before springing up and head-butting the first man she saw, driving her helmet into his chin. He dropped his rifle to the ground, and Sk8r Girl flicked her field hockey stick to send it hurtling into the man next to him. Sent-Bee looped her yo-yo around the legs of a man on Sk8r Girl’s other side, jerked the yo-yo sharply, and pulled him to the ground before shooting all the men already on the ground with her synth-Venom gun.

“Attack!” With a howl, Bee-atrice charged through the gap, a trio of the wild dogs followed in her wake. The first of the wild dogs through the opening leapt on the closest gunman, digging his claws into the man’s chest and sending him crashing to the ground. The second dog pounced, biting the man’s wrist and breaking his hold on his rifle. Bee-atrice barked and jumped up and down excitedly at Sent-Bee’s feet. “Take them down!”

Buq Hayij kicked the man next to her in the gut, launching him backward into the container behind him and denting the side. “I have rather missed this,” she observed, glancing over at Sent-Bee. “My thanks for the reminder of who we _should_ be!”

Sent-Bee sidestepped another man, wrenched the rifle out of his hands, jabbed the butt into his gut, and tossed it under a container. “We are always glad to crack a few skulls for a good cause!”

A clattering from inside the container where the gunmen had hidden was all the warning the heroes received that their enemies had reinforcements so close. Sent-Bee threw her yo-yo and tangled it around the lower part of the doorjamb. She pulled the string tight, and three men stumbled over each other as the first one out tripped on the string. The yo-yo was wrenched from her hands, however, and she pulled her second yo-yo from its holster and flicked it out to wrap around another thug’s gun, pulling off his aim where he was trying to shoot Buq Hayij in the back.

There were a couple thugs still standing. Sk8r Girl swung her field hockey stick around and tripped up the man in front of her. In the same motion she separated the two parts of the stick and slammed the handle side into the man’s back, activating the taser. He flinched and collapsed to the ground, letting out a shaky breath.

“Leave them and finish the mission!” Sent-Bee shouted at her, ducking a punch from another man and elbowing him in the side. Bee-atrice bit the man’s ankle, and he fell to the ground with a whimper. Another dog leapt on his chest, teeth bared.

Sk8r Girl sighed, clapped her shoes together to deploy her skates, and shot down the lane to the two containers they were targeting. She leaned and skidded to a halt at the end of the lane, directly in front of the first one, pulling the stencil and spray paint from her bag as she did so. With a swipe from the first color, the existing marking had been removed. She pulled out the second color, but froze when she heard the sound of a pistol cocking next to her head from just outside the lane.

“Any last words, _Hero_?” the man sneered, pressing the gun to the side of her helmet.

She smirked behind her full-face shield. “‘Duck’.”

The man let out a confused scoff. “Wha–”

A duck dove into the man’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Buq Hayij” is Arabic for “Raging Horn.” Buq Hayij is Amina (Yousef’s wife), who has the Rhinoceros Miraculous. This is one of 2 chapters I added to the story late in the game. I realized I needed to show a little more explicitly how their involvement with the Heroes of Paris motivated the African Miraculous Team, and this seemed like the ideal way to do it. That and there’s a moment in “Subjecting a God” that someone pointed out might be relevant…


	26. Battle Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to return to the main event...

**Rouen**

The moment the portal opened, Carapace jumped through, shield held in front of his chest, with the rest of his team right behind him and one of Pegasus’ drones hovering above their heads. They arrived right in front of a warehouse slightly larger than the ones in Paris. Hato Gozen and Ryoku took positions on either side of Carapace, with Miss Pinky and Anansi right behind. The warehouse loading yard was deserted. Nothing seemed to be moving, and even with his miraculous-enhanced hearing, Carapace couldn’t hear a thing.

He frowned. “Keep an eye out, dudes,” he called, leading the team up to the closest loading door.

Hato Gozen put her palm on the door, took a deep breath, and shouted something Carapace didn’t understand, closing her fist and punching the door simultaneously. The door crumpled in on itself and shot across the interior of the warehouse, clattering against the opposite wall. The heroes raced through the doorway after it.

The interior of the warehouse was dark, despite the sunlight streaming in through the doorway behind them. Carapace could see four large shipping containers on one side of the warehouse, but the rest of the building seemed deserted.

“Are you sure we got the right place?” Ryoku wondered, lowering her sword and looking around with some confusion.

No sooner had the heroes reached the middle of the warehouse than Carapace heard laughter from above. Carapace looked up to find the source of the noise and saw Night Bat standing on one of the rafters. Night Bat made a casual gesture toward the shipping containers, and two rose into the air and dropped to the floor in front of the exit. Lightning crackled from his fingertips and struck the containers, sealing them together. Then he stepped off the rafter and dropped to the floor in front of them.

“You heroes,” Night Bat observed, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. “Did you truly think we wouldn’t figure out you were watching the Panama Canal? All we needed was the timing, which your Paris Police were kind enough to provide. Three simultaneous raids in Paris? Your Ladybug certainly enjoys her complex plans, does she not? A pity she never studied military strategy. Three words: ‘defeat in detail.’”

“Do you truly think you’re man enough to fight all of us?” Carapace retorted, tightening his grip on the handle of his shield.

Night Bat scoffed. “Yes. But I don’t have to.” He snapped his fingers, and the rest of his team emerged from the shadows around the periphery of the room.

Carapace tensed as the villains moved to encircle his team. Night Bat was not taking any chances. All three of his other miraculous holders – Tyran-X, Killer Bee, and Cerna – were present, as well as Mecha-Man, the Prior, the Deaconess, and another several Dark Acolytes. And that didn’t take into account the regular thugs he could now see spread out around the warehouse walls with energy rifles trained on the five heroes. Behind Carapace the rest of the team moved to form a tight ring. They were certainly outnumbered. But that wasn’t anything new. On Heroes’ Day they were outnumbered by hundreds of Akumas. When they defeated Hawk Moth, he had brought thousands of Akumas _and_ sentimonsters to bear against them.

“So Night Bat baited us,” Carapace told Pegasus over his communicator, affected a forced-casual tone.

Pegasus muttered a curse that the communicator almost didn’t pick up. “The teams in Paris are occupied at the moment,” he informed them.

Carapace eyed Night Bat predatorily. “No worries, dude: we got this.” He scanned the room quickly, running through options. “Ryoku,” he muttered under his breath, “cut the numbers down.”

“Lightning Dragon!” shouted Ryoku, vanishing in a clap of thunder. The interior of the warehouse lit up yellow as shadows danced and lightning flashed around the walls.

At the same moment, the rest of the heroes sprang into action. Miss Pinky zeroed in on Tyran-X, sweeping his lasso aside with the head of her rake and forcing him to retract it when he almost snared Killer Bee’s ankle. Hato Gozen clapped her hands together, emitting a light flare that blinded Mecha-Man, before swinging her naginata to block Cerna’s battleaxe and sweeping her legs out from under her with the handle. Anansi grabbed the nearest Dark Acolyte by the collar and swung him into another Acolyte, sending both sprawling to the ground.

Carapace focused in on Night Bat, who bared his teeth in a twisted grin. He lunged forward, shield parallel to the ground, and spun around into a kick at Night Bat’s head. Night Bat ducked beneath the kick and raised his sword to parry Carapace’s follow-up strike with the rim of his shield. Carapace dropped into a crouch and shifted his shield slightly to deflect Night Bat’s counterattack before slamming the center of the shield into Night Bat’s chest. Night Bat stumbled backward, and Carapace jumped, kicking him in the chin. The kick never landed, as Night Bat’s eyes flashed black and a black disk appeared in the air between them. Carapace’s foot struck the disk and he was flung backward, away from Night Bat. He landed hard on his back and kipped to his feet just as Night Bat dropped the shield and moved to strike. The moment Carapace regained his footing, Night Bat punched him in the gut twice with his off hand before smacking him in the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. Night Bat let out a pained howl and dropped his sword.

“Are you telling me you’ve never seen a _helmet_ before, dude?” scoffed Carapace, dropping to the ground and sweeping Night Bat’s legs out from under him. He kicked Night Bat’s sword away to clatter across the cement near where Anansi was fighting the Prior.

“I will cut off your head and stew your brains in that helmet!” Night Bat retorted, jumping back to his feet. He held one hand out in front of him and started murmuring in a strange language, his eyes leaking black swirls.

“Stop him!” shouted Hato Gozen from across the room, spinning away from a beam of energy Mecha-Man fired at her which melted through the warehouse wall behind her.

Carapace threw his shield straight at Night Bat with all his might, striking him in the arm. Night Bat shrieked in pain as his arm bent in the wrong direction. The arm flopped limply at his side, and he clutched it with his other hand, muttering something under his breath. Without giving him a chance to breathe, Carapace charged forward, raining punches his chest. Still muttering, Night Bat bobbed to either side to avoid the blows before dropping to sweep Carapace’s feet out from under him. Carapace jumped over his leg and simultaneously kneed him in the face, but Night Bat leaned away from the strike. At that moment there was a creak as Night Bat’s injured arm reset itself. He gasped weakly but pushed himself up, grabbing Carapace by the collar.

“You made me use more energy than I planned just now,” Night Bat commented ominously. “I guess I’ll just have to take some of _yours_!” He put a hand to Carapace’s forehead. “Kiss of–”

Carapace slammed his helmet into Night Bat’s head before he could finish the phrase. “I hate to break it to you, dude, but there’s only _one_ person who kisses me!” Night Bat dropped to one knee, and Carapace took a second to catch his breath and check his team’s status.

Hato Gozen had taken to the air on her magic wings, sending gusts of wind in all directions to disrupt the swarms of sparrows, pigeons, and gulls that Cerna kept sending at her. Mecha-Man shot a wad of chi-putty at her wing, and she rolled to avoid it, nearly flying straight into a ceiling beam. She dropped to the ground in the center of a swarm of rats, sending a shockwave through the animals, before summoning a shield of her own to absorb an energy beam from Mecha-Man, which she redirected through her naginata across the room at Killer Bee, who had been sneaking up behind Ryoku.

Although she had missed the miraculous users, Ryoku’s initial Lightning Dragon attack had eliminated about half of the gun-wielding thugs in the warehouse before she resumed her human form right in front of Killer Bee, unleashing a powerful two-handed slash at her head. Only miraculous reflexes had enabled Killer Bee to raise her top in a shield in time. She ducked under Ryoku’s blade and tried to loop her top around Ryoku’s leg, but Ryoku had already sprung away, sending three of the goons bowling into the crowd of Dark Acolytes surrounding Anansi.

Anansi had grabbed the quarterstaff out of one Dark Acolyte’s hands, snapped it in half over her knee, and threw the two halves at different Acolytes’ heads, adding them to the steadily-growing pile of unconscious Acolytes at her feet. The Prior spun around and kicked her in the side, but she clamped her arm down, pinning his leg to her side, and spun him into the Deaconess, who jumped back out of the way and dove to one side when Anansi released the Prior in her direction. Anansi charged the Deaconess, ducked a quarterstaff strike, and aimed a kick at her chest, but the Deaconess moved to the side, pulling Anansi off-balance. That gave the Prior, who had landed on his hands and rolled through a cartwheel to regain his footing, the opening to kick Anansi in the back, sending her sprawling to the ground at Miss Pinky’s feet.

Miss Pinky blocked one punch from Tyran-X and ducked the next, raising her rake to block his lasso. She jumped backward, leading Tyran-X away from the battle and toward the far wall of the warehouse.

“Why won’t you fight me!?!” Tyran-X demanded, stomping his foot and throwing his lasso.

“Because I don’t _want_ to fight you!” she told him, evading the lasso. “You have suffered so much… I don’t want to add to it!”

“What do you know of my loss?” he demanded, glaring at her.

“I know I was there when your wife was killed,” she replied, tears in her eyes. “I know… I know I’m the reason it happened.”

“What!?!” he roared, charging her with his fists flying. “You killed her!”

“It–it was an accident!”

“Liar!” He threw his lasso around Miss Pinky, tightening it around her chest and pinning her arms to her sides.

“No! I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry? You’re _sorry_!?!” He laughed maniacally and pulled her, squirming against the rope, off the ground. “You _will_ be sorry when I’m through with you!” With that, he pulled her into the air and smashed her face-first into the ceiling before slamming her into the floor, shattering the cement under her.

Carapace’s eye was drawn from the immobile Miss Pinky back to Night Bat, who looked up at him malevolently. “Did you really think you feeble _heroes_ could stop me?” Night Bat asked. “They are only the first. I will destroy your team in front of you, and then I will destroy you! Or perhaps I will take you now!” He flicked his hand out at a spot behind Carapace.

“No!” Something slammed into Carapace and knocked him aside to land within arm’s reach of his shield. He looked back to see who had hit him, only to find Ryoku sprawled where he had been standing moments before, Night Bat’s sword sticking out of her gut. Night Bat callously withdrew the sword from her, eliciting a whimper of pain. She curled up around the injury. He raised his still-bloody sword over his head.

Carapace grabbed his shield and lunged to interpose the shield between Ryoku and Night Bat. “Ryoku’s down!” he shouted, blocking the strike with millimeters to spare. He pushed the sword back and knelt protectively over Ryoku, not taking his eyes off of Night Bat, who stared back in manic fury.

“W–water Dragon,” coughed Ryoku weakly, putting a hand over the front side of the wound.

“Miss Pinky and Anansi are out, too!” called Hato Gozen, flying above them.

“Get them!” He couldn’t take his eyes off of Night Bat, who was hacking away at his shield with furious strikes, each of which took more of Carapace’s remaining strength to block. His arms could only take so many of Night Bat’s powerful slashes ringing off of his shield; miraculous-enhanced strength or not, his shield was being battered back with every strike, forcing him to pour more and more effort into holding it in place to protect himself and Ryoku. He felt Anansi land behind him across his leg, followed shortly by Miss Pinky. He heard a shot ring out from the other side of the warehouse, and Hato Gozen crashed to the ground on top of the other two. “Shell-ter!”


	27. Battle Chapter 4

Pegasus opened a portal on the far side of the warehouse, through which Ladybug and Cat Noir jumped before the portal closed behind them. Night Bat and his team stood in a circle around the Shell-ter dome in which Carapace crouched over Ryoku, one hand on either side of her wound to stem the flow of blood starting to trickle out again. Hato Gozen and Miss Pinky lay unmoving on the floor. Anansi stirred and shook her head weakly.

“Carapace! Are you okay in there, bro?” called Cat Noir, staff held loosely in one hand.

“Oh, you know… we’ve been better…”

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Ladybug promised, smiling at him confidently.

Night Bat scoffed. “False bravado isn’t a good look, my dear.”

Mecha-Man whipped one arm up and fired a spread of chi-putty at them. Cat Noir interposed himself in front of Ladybug and spun his staff as a shield. A glob of chi-putty struck his staff, freezing him in place. At the same moment, Ladybug leapt over him, yo-yo darting out to grab Mecha-Man’s arm, and was hit by a high shot of chi-putty. She landed, immobilized, across Cat Noir’s arms.

Night Bat clucked his tongue in disappointment. “Checkmate.”

One corner of Ladybug’s lips curled in a smirk as a portal opened directly above Mecha-Man.

* * *

**Five Minutes Earlier**

Pegasus stared hard at the feed from his drone as Carapace and his team fought desperately against the overwhelming numbers that Night Bat had brought to bear against them. Although the team was fighting hard, he could see them beginning to give ground. Night Bat pressed Carapace into a defensive posture. Miss Pinky still appeared unprepared for the emotional toll of her fight with Tyran-X. Ryoku and Hato Gozen fought multiple opponents each, but could only do so much. Anansi had drawn the attention of the Prior’s cadre of Dark Acolytes away from the miraculous users, but was herself being overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. Although they were fighting well, their probability of success dropped measurably with every passing minute.

“Dammit!” cursed Ladybug, punching the lab table so hard she left a dent behind. “I sent them into a trap!”

Pegasus jumped and tore his eyes off the monitor. Ladybug’s fist was still in the center of the dent, but her shoulders were hunched over, shuddering slightly, exuding tension. He gave Impératrice Pourpre a sideways glance; she simply pursed her lips.

Cat Noir placed a hand on Ladybug’s shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “It’s not on you, Milady,” he soothed her. “We’re all in this together. We’re all right here with you. We all made the decision. So we’ll all deal with it.”

A shout on the screen drew Pegasus’ attention back to the drone feed, just in time to watch Mecha-Man hit Hato Gozen with a gob of chi-putty, sending her crashing to the floor on top of Anansi and Miss Pinky. Ryoku lay curled up on her side, a small pool of blood on either side of her.

“No,” Ladybug whispered, eyes wide as saucers, hands flying to cover her mouth.

Impératrice Pourpre grabbed Ladybug by the shoulders, shook her roughly, and glared into her eyes. “Panic won’t fix _anything_! We need our Ladybug! Look, I know you’re worried, Mar, but you need to _focus_! We can help them.”

“But _what_ can we do?” Ladybug demanded, tears threatening in her eyes. “We’re out of options, Sabrina, unless the four of _us_ are going to rescue them!”

“Perhaps I can open a portal inside the Shell-ter to evacuate them,” suggested Pegasus.

“If we do that, we admit we failed,” Ladybug whispered.

“Statistically it is unlikely that the four of us are sufficient to turn the tide,” Pegasus pointed out. “And given the available data, it is a near _certainty_ that this is intended as a trap to bait the two of _you_ into placing yourselves at his mercy!”

“One of us can unify with the Shark for a power boost,” Cat Noir suggested.

“Neither of us knows the Shark Miraculous,” Ladybug replied, frowning.

“What about Goosilla?” asked Pegasus.

Cat Noir frowned. “Maybe, but Gorilla’s still not really comfortable with the Goose Miraculous and its weapon, and I hate throwing him into something like _this_ untested. Why can’t we pull people from the other teams to go with?”

Pegasus shook his head and gestured to the monitors. “They are occupied still, and Ryoku’s injury puts us on a time limit. We do not have time to pull from multiple teams – even if Sabrina gives me an Akuma boost to avoid recharging. We need one team, and we do not have time for more than one additional portal. And with Mecha-Man and six Dark Acolytes present we need non-miraculous users to assist if we are to have any chance of success.”

Ladybug furrowed her brow and looked around the lab, her eyes settling on Impératrice Pourpre and on the completed portal ring. She smirked.

* * *

Pegasus dropped out of the portal, horseshoe in hand, to land on Mecha-Man’s shoulders. In a single motion he separated a flash drive from his horseshoe and inserted it into the port on Mecha-Man’s helmet. Mecha-Man cried out in surprise as his suit froze in place. Pegasus jumped off of him in a backflip, placing the immobilized suit between himself and the rest of the villains.

Night Bat eyed him with some amusement. “You came all this way, just to do that? There are still many of us, and only one of you.”

“Your premise is incorrect,” Pegasus taunted, grinning. “I am not alone.”

At that moment a trident hurtled through the still-open portal above Pegasus, followed by another six figures. The trident grazed a Dark Acolyte who fell to the floor paralyzed. One of the newcomers hit a button on her wrist, and the trident flew back to her hand, just in time to parry a quarterstaff blow from the Prior. Her companion slid on his knees to avoid a blow from another Dark Acolyte, punched his knee out of joint with the butt of his riot baton, and sprang to his feet, aiming a kick at the Dark Acolyte to his left.

“Patriota, Caravela, keep the Acolytes busy!” Pegasus called, throwing his horseshoe at Cerna, deflecting the axe blow she had aimed at Caravela’s back. “Do not allow them to bind the others!” He caught his horseshoe on the rebound and keyed two buttons on the control panel. The Mecha-Man suit slumped over as it powered down.

The team from the American Temple charged into the battle on either side of Pegasus. Espina stopped next to him, reached back, and grabbed a handful of quills from her back. “Spinal Shower!” she called, laying the quills across her bow and firing. The quills fanned out and shot past her three teammates, into the crowd of Night Bat’s team arrayed around the Shell-ter. Killer Bee whipped her top in a circle in front of herself to block the quills aimed at her as Night Bat’s eyes flashed black and he formed a shield in front of himself. Three thugs dropped their energy rifles as quills struck them.

Alpac-Man threw his hoop over the head of one of the goons who had been struck by quills. “Alpackify!” he shouted. The man’s eyes unfocused and he stood up straight, placing a hand on the shoulders of the men standing next to him. In a matter of moments, Alpac-Man had “domesticated” half of Night Bat’s support and ordered them to stand in one corner of the warehouse, next to a shipping container and safely out of the way.

El Bandido held his magnifying glass up into the sunlight streaming through one of the windows, catching the light and focusing it on Cerna’s face, distracting her from her fight against Caravela temporarily. Cerna lifted her battleaxe to shield her eyes from the light, and El Bandido pulled the magnifying glass down and swung it at her legs. She fell to the ground, and Caravela stabbed her in the chest with her trident. Cerna grabbed the trident’s middle tine and shoved the butt end back into Caravela’s chest. Her eyes widened in confusion and pain.

“Miraculous suits cannot be pierced by non-miraculous weapons!” warned Pegasus belatedly.

Caravela nodded and tugged her trident out of Cerna’s grip as El Bandido swung his magnifying glass at Cerna’s head. Cerna released the trident and parried the magnifying glass with her battleaxe before kipping to her feet.

Onça Feroz launched a projectile at Cerna from her sling before focusing in on the Deaconess, who was trying to help the Prior against O Patriota. She ducked beneath a sweeping blow from the Deaconess’ quarterstaff and dodged around a kick. Looping her sling around the Deaconess’ wrist, she swung her around and released her to crash into the Prior. The Deaconess threw out her quarterstaff to catch herself midair, dropped to the ground, and released a bolas at Onça Feroz’s feet. Onça Feroz jumped over the bolas, which skipped across the floor to wrap around one of Night Bat’s ankles.

Night Bat was left as the only enemy still standing near the Shell-ter when it blinked out of existence. He raised his sword to strike as Carapace lifted his shield, but Hato Gozen surged to her feet the moment Anansi peeled the chi-putty from her back. Hato Gozen extended her naginata handle past Carapace, catching Night Bat off-guard as he sidestepped to avoid it. With a cry of rage, Hato Gozen leapt over Carapace’s head and unleashed a furious slash at Night Bat, who was thrown off balance and fell back a step before her onslaught. Killer Bee and Tyran-X sprang to his aid, only to be thrown off by the unexpected intervention of the newly-freed Ladybug and Cat Noir.

Pegasus let out a quiet breath as Ladybug wrapped her yo-yo around Tyran-X’s ankles and threw him across the room, forcing Killer Bee to dodge out of his way. Espina threw a pouch to Carapace, who separated the compresses and pressed one against each side of Ryoku’s injury. Pegasus had been unsure about the ability of his drone to remove chi-putty from affected heroes, but it appeared as though the manipulating arm on the next-generation drone was precise enough to perform the task.

At that moment, the Mecha-Man suit booted back up. “Come on…” muttered Mecha-Man, twisting one wrist to test it out. “Don’t leave me hanging like this…”

“Do not concern yourself too much with that,” Pegasus told him, putting in a command on his horseshoe. “I am certain that the police will collect you soon enough.”

“Do you really think you can stop us?” Mecha-Man demanded, spinning around lightning quick and aiming an arm cannon at Pegasus.

Pegasus pressed a button, and the cannon turned off. Mecha-Man smacked it once with his other hand in confusion. “You do not understand this software, do you?” Pegasus observed, smirking. He inputted another string of commands. Whoever was operating the suit certainly knew his way around its system, but he did not know programming as well as Pegasus. With a shout of triumph, Pegasus hit “Enter,” and the suit shut down again. “Now stay where you are,” he instructed Mecha-Man, patting him on the shoulder. “The police will be here shortly.”

“You are _not_ sending me to prison!” shouted Mecha-Man. The suit front opened up, and the man inside burst out, knife in hand. He aimed a punch at Pegasus, who lifted his horseshoe to block it. The Mecha-Man pilot drew an energy pistol from his belt and fired at Pegasus’ face, forcing him to dive for cover behind the suit itself. Pegasus peeked out from behind the suit, only to duck behind it again as the pilot pinned him down with a steady barrage of energy blasts while slowly working his way backwards toward the closest warehouse exit.

“There is no benefit to continuing this!” called Night Bat from the far side of the warehouse. “It is time to retreat!” He snapped his fingers, and the warehouse plunged into darkness.

Hato Gozen clapped her hands an instant later and the darkness lifted. The Heroes however were left alone in the warehouse. Pegasus looked around the room. The rest of their team appeared largely unharmed, though El Bandido appeared to be bleeding from a cut on his arm. Onça Feroz’s wrist was bent at a funny angle. Caravela held her stomach as though cradling a broken rib. But they had succeeded in apprehending about half of Night Bat’s force – though not any of the miraculous holders or the Prior or Deaconess.

With Pegasus and Cat Noir close behind her, Ladybug raced over and slid to her knees on the floor next to Carapace in front of Ryoku, whose pallid face was drawn in pain, eyes clenched tightly shut. Ladybug put her hand on Ryoku’s cheek, and Ryoku opened her eyes to look up at her. “Miraculous Ladybug,” Ladybug whispered. A swirl of red magic spread from her through the warehouse, settled over the wounded heroes, repaired the other damage, and restored the shipping containers to their proper places.


	28. Battle Chapter 5

Carapace pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, rolling his neck to relieve some of the tension from the fight. His entire team had gotten injured in the fight. Ryoku would have died if she hadn’t used Water Dragon to hold the blood inside her body – he had no idea how she’d known she could _do_ that. And if Ladybug and Cat Noir hadn’t shown up when they did… and with backup, too…

Ryoku gasped and relaxed the moment the Miraculous Ladybug magic washed over her. Miss Pinky, who had lain still since landing with the others, finally started to stir. Anansi had already pushed herself to her feet and adjusted her helmet, though she would have fallen to her knees had Hato Gozen not caught her arm and pulled it over her shoulder to support her. Ryoku felt her side where Night Bat’s sword had pierced her, the blood that had coated her suit and pooled on the floor around her now gone. Miss Pinky blinked owlishly at Carapace before trying to sit up.

“Stay still,” Carapace told them softly, putting a hand on Miss Pinky’s shoulder. He knelt and scooped Ryoku up in his arms as Cat Noir did the same with Miss Pinky.

“If you’re going to carry me like some stupid damsel in distress, I _will_ turn you into turtle soup,” Ryoku growled, though her inability to lift her head from exhaustion robbed the threat of any force.

“Considering that you saved my life, I owe you at least this much, dudette,” he replied, forcing himself to maintain a calm tone to keep the rest of his team’s minds at ease. Everyone was okay. They were okay. They’d won. He looked around the warehouse at the over a dozen heroes who had participated in the battle by the end, and let out a breath. “I just hope it was worth it,” he muttered darkly.

Pegasus raced over from the direction of the shipping containers resting against the wall, his horseshoe in hand, a list of everything in the containers pulled up on its screen. He put a hand on Carapace’s shoulder. “All four containers are filled,” he informed him. “Night Bat did not move the contraband before our raid.” He glanced up at the drone hovering near one window and consulted something on his horseshoe. “The local police will be here shortly. I will open a portal for the rest of you to return while Ladybug and I remain behind to explain the situation to them.”

Carapace nodded and stepped back as the portal opened in front of him. Impératrice Pourpre was waiting in the Headquarters butterfly garden with three other heroes as Carapace led the rest of the group through. Rena Rouge ran over to Anansi and Hato Gozen, giving Anansi a hug that she returned hesitantly, wincing. Meanwhile, Carapace walked straight to Viperion and passed Ryoku into his arms. Viperion cradled her gently as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

Cat Noir did the same, handing Miss Pinky to Bengalia, before telling them, “You can pick an unused bedroom for a few hours until you’re all recovered and ready to go home.”

Viperion nodded hesitantly, a troubled look in his eyes. “I–”

Carapace sighed. He knew that look all too well – he’d seen it from Cat Noir and Taureau Dechaine enough times; for that matter, he’d worn it himself the last time Rena Rouge had gotten hurt! He put a hand on Viperion’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “We’ll talk later, dude,” he promised, squeezing his shoulder. “For now, see about the girls.”

The four of them headed for the elevator. Anansi followed them, with Hato Gozen still supporting her. Satisfied that his team was being looked after, Carapace finally turned to Rena Rouge, who immediately threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. He held her tightly, burying one hand in her hair as she pressed herself against him, and allowed himself to relax for the first time since Night Bat had made his appearance.

“You had me worried,” she whispered, hugging him so tightly he couldn’t breathe.

“Please,” he scoffed. “There’s no way I’m letting that dude take me out!”

She pulled back far enough to glare at him, and he let out a nervous chuckle. “Just… don’t die on me,” she told him. 

“I’m okay, babe, I swear,” he assured her, running a hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and nodded, resting her head on his shoulder.

Another portal opened, and through it stepped Ladybug and Pegasus. A lavender butterfly separated itself from Pegasus’ miraculous and turned to white, moments before Impératrice Pourpre wrapped him in a hug. Ladybug walked over to them and was joined by Cat Noir, who put an arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he kissed her forehead. Carapace met Rena Rouge’s eye and grinned. She surreptitiously raised her flute and snuck a picture.

“We smoothed everything over with the Rouen police,” Ladybug finally explained, sighing. “They were… mildly unhappy that we turned their city into a warzone for an hour, even if it _was_ only one warehouse and we repaired all the damage right away,” she added, an irritated look in her eyes.

Impératrice Pourpre, who had joined them along with Pegasus, pointed out, “They do have a right to be upset that we left them in the dark, but this whole ordeal has shown us that there’s a risk _any_ time anyone else learns our plans – even when we think we’ve identified all the leaks, there’s still the possibility.”

“Based on available information,” Pegasus added, “there is a 75% chance that Lynchpin has at least one mole in the Rouen Police. If we had informed them, he could have had the time to plan something _worse_ for you.”

Carapace grimaced. “As it is, we were seriously lucky, dude,” he told Pegasus. “You guys really pulled through.” He glanced over at the four American heroes, one of whom came over to join them. “Onça Feroz, right?” he asked in English. When she nodded, he held out a hand and said, “We definitely owe you one for this!”

Onça Feroz smiled. “My team is happy to assist you however we can,” she assured him. “And now that we have a working portal system, we can come over any time! Although the time difference will take some getting used to; I think my body is still on Peru time at the moment.” She stifled a yawn.

“Beds are upstairs if you wish to rest a bit before you return,” Cat Noir told her. “Julia and Lise can help you find a free room.”

“ _Obrigado_ ,” Onça Feroz replied, nodding to her teammates.

The last two heroes finally approached their group, and Rena Rouge released Carapace to throw her arms around Caravela.

“Do I know you?” asked Caravela, returning the hug hesitantly.

“Um… we have met,” Rena Rouge answered, flushing in embarrassment. “Thank you for helping us out.”

“We are grateful for the opportunity,” O Patriota replied, clasping Carapace’s hand. “We owe you a debt for your assistance recently. That interview on the Ladyblog gave us a definite boost!”

“I had no idea how useful this magnetic retrieval system could be!” added Caravela, twirling her trident.

“Are you ready to return home?” Pegasus asked. When Caravela nodded, he opened a portal for them.

Rena Rouge wrapped her arms around Carapace again, and he held her tightly, closing his eyes taking in the scent of her hair. He sighed. “I love you,” he whispered. She squeezed him and let out a sigh of her own. He looked up to see the other four staring at them and grinning. “I don’t know about the rest of you,” he commented, “but pizza and a nap sounds pretty amazing right about now.”


	29. Interlude 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka and Kagami take a few hours to reflect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of references to [“The Heart of the Storm,”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25515076/chapters/61903468) as well as a mention of [“The Gala”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091401/chapters/61891036) from “The Life and Times of the Heroes of Paris.”

Luka’s mind was still racing faster than “The Flight of the Bumblebees,” and had been for the last hour. He had reported that his team had finally stopped the truck and secured the drugs – the last team in Paris to report in – and Impératrice Pourpre had responded by informing them that the team sent to Rouen had encountered problems and there were injuries. She had immediately reassured them that it was under control, but when she told him privately that Ryoku and Miss Pinky had both been hurt badly and asked him to return to the Mansion, he had feared the worst, in spite of her assurances to the contrary.

It was his fault. If she had been with him, he could have kept her safe. With Second Chance, he could have found a different method which would have had a better outcome. Instead, he’d almost lost her.

The thought of losing her hadn’t seemed real until that moment.

Kagami lay curled up on her side next to him on the bed, her head resting on his chest, nestled underneath his chin, and her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He held her protectively, one arm around her back holding her against him while he ran a finger gently up and down her side, eliciting a sigh, though she didn’t wake up. Her slow, steady breathing, the heartbeat he could feel against his side, confirmed that she was safe. Safe, and asleep from exhaustion. On the other bed, Rose and Juleka didn’t seem to be in any better shape. While Rose’s back had been healed by Miraculous Ladybug, Juleka’s was sporting a nasty bruise from when one of the guys she’d fought had gotten a hand on her and thrown her into one of the support beams holding up the warehouse – nearly bringing the warehouse down on them in the process. But all things considered, they had to consider themselves lucky: they all could have ended up in far worse shape.

But even though he still held in his arms the confirmation that Kagami was okay, even though he could hear his sisters’ breathing, he still couldn’t sleep. Every time he had closed his eyes in the last hour, he had only seen the moment, not three minutes after realizing her identity, that he had watched Ryoku’s head cut off by a slash from Il Pirata that she couldn’t raise her sword quickly enough to block. It had been bad enough, all the times that it was “just” Ryoku that was throwing herself into danger and taking hits for him that he would reset momentarily – that was her job, and that was how their partnership operated the best. But this time it had been different: this time it had been Kagami, too. Although they hadn’t been especially close before their mission to the port cities, he could acknowledge in retrospect that he had recognized her underlying vulnerability and wanted to help her, even as far back as when he asked her to dance at the Gala. Yes, he had found a different way for that battle to go – and in the end it had only taken that single reset to defeat Il Pirata – but that particular image of Kagami being killed had stuck with him longer than most.

When Carapace had informed him yesterday that they were putting him and Ryoku on different teams for today’s missions, he had been about to protest when that image had sprung to mind once more, over a month after it had happened. Could he handle watching her get hurt again? Could he handle his responsibility if he knew that one of his teammates was the girl who completely trusted him with her life and her heart? In the end he had accepted the decision to split them up, thinking it was for the best.

But now, having seen what happened when they were split up, could he really say he could handle the stress of knowing he had absolutely no control over Kagami’s fate? That she could be hurt – or even killed – and he would be powerless to do anything about it?

His hand stopped moving, and she nuzzled further into his chest, sighing in her sleep. He planted a kiss on the crown of her head, and was about to try closing his eyes again when a green Kwami phased through the room door and fixed its eyes on him. Seeing that he was awake, the Kwami dropped to hover next to his head and whispered, “Carapace asked me to let you know that he is available to talk with you any time, if you need it.”

“Thanks…”

“Wayzz.”

Luka nodded and sighed. “I guess now is as good a time as any.” He shifted carefully to slide out of Kagami’s arms, placing her hand on the pillow next to her head. She groaned once but didn’t wake. Luka followed Wayzz to the door, and Luka opened it as quietly as possible. Nino was standing right outside. Luka raised an eyebrow as Wayzz gave Nino a fist-bump before perching on his shoulder. Luka stepped outside fully and closed the door quietly behind him.

“Surprise,” Nino joked, with a small smile, though not one that fully reached his eyes. “I figured you’d prefer to talk without masks at the moment,” he explained. “And Alya and I really have no reason to hide our identities from you dudes aside from habit, so…” He shrugged. “So how are you feeling at the moment?” he asked. “Or should I guess?”

Luka scoffed. “How do you _think_ I’m feeling at the moment?”

Nino nodded in acknowledgment and started listing off on his fingers. “Let’s see… you’re still worried about your girl since she nearly died. You’re pissed off at _me_ because we put you on separate teams today and Kagami nearly died saving me. And you’re angry at _yourself_ because you think you should have kept her safe. What did I miss?”

“I’m not sure if I’m angrier at you for splitting us up, or at myself for not arguing the point,” Luka admitted. He sighed ruefully and ran a hand through his hair. “And now I’m not sure whether or not you made the right call.”

“The fact that you’re not sure _shows_ it was the right call for the moment,” Nino replied calmly. “We _all_ have problems staying objective where the girls we love are concerned. Alya and I have always been an amazing team, but I still got Akumatized over her… _twice_! Right after finding out it was her, I saw her get hit by an Akuma on Heroes’ Day, and not three seconds later I got Akumatized. Adrien has struggled with it. Taureau Dechaine has struggled with it. For as much as I trust Alya to stay safe out there, I _still_ worry about her. Hell, if you _didn’t_ worry about the girl you love, doing what we do, seeing what we see, _I_ would probably be worried about _you_!”

“But if I’d been there, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt!”

“That’s probably right, dude,” Nino agreed, nodding. “But what might have been the tradeoff? If you had to pick between Kagami getting hurt and, say, _me_ getting hurt worse, how would you choose? If doing her part of the mission meant she got hurt, would you allow the mission to fail just to keep her from getting hurt at all? Would you have been distracted by worrying about her and allowed someone else to get hurt instead?” Luka glared at him, and Nino held up a hand. “Look, I’m not saying you would, or even what the right call is in _any_ of those scenarios. There’s no guilt or judgment here. You’re the one we all trust to make those calls with Second Chance. But these are the kinds of decisions you have to make all the time – and they’re going to be supercharged whenever your girlfriend is involved. I really don’t envy you that power, dude. You have the ability to find the ideal outcome, but you also have all of eternity to try and fail and second-guess and try again – and to remember all those failures. Whereas all _I_ can do is act on instinct and hope I get it right!”

“I can always find the best outcome,” Luka argued, frowning.

“Probably,” Nino acknowledged. “But you can’t guarantee it’s always going to be the case. Or that your judgment won’t be affected by having Kagami right there. The fact is, being a hero is dangerous, and people do get hurt. Every time we go out, every time we transform, it could be our last time. It’s one thing to accept that risk for yourself; it’s something else to accept that someone you love is taking that risk, too.” He put a hand on Luka’s shoulder. “There’s a reason we wanted to separate you for now. Once this new reality has sunk in, I know you and Kagami and Juleka and Rose will be the same unstoppable team that gave Il Pirata the beating of his life three times. That’s what happened for Ladybug and Cat Noir last year, and it’s what happened for me and Alya, too. It doesn’t mean you can’t worry; it just means trusting her – and trusting yourself.”

Luka frowned. As much as he hated to admit it, the images in his mind were a compelling argument in favor of Nino’s words. Could he really be objective anymore if Kagami was the one in danger?

Nino gave him a sympathetic smile. “Everything worked out for us this time around,” he reminded him. “Everyone’s safe. Everything got healed. And she didn’t get hurt for nothing.” Luka nodded, his eyes straying to the bedroom door behind him. “If you’re hungry later, we ordered pizza,” Nino told him, clapping him on the shoulder and stepping back. “The rest of the gang’s resting in Adrien’s room, but if you send Sass around, Mme Lenoir will be happy to bring some over, if you don’t feel like getting up.”

“Yeah… thanks.” Luka reached for the door handle to let himself back into the room. He could see Kagami staring at the door as soon as it opened. He noticed her eyes looking past his shoulder, a question in her expression. He closed the door softly, sat down on the bed next to her, and explained, “Carapace came by to talk. The ‘so your girlfriend’s a superhero’ talk.”

Kagami nodded. “I figured you didn’t go too far since Sass was still on the pillow with Longg.” She smirked playfully. “Don’t tell me you’re worrying about me again!”

He smiled, though without his usual humor. “I always worry when I’m not there.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that!” he insisted, eyes widening. “Not really… I just don’t like seeing you get hurt. It’s bad enough when I’m there to undo it; it was so much worse this time since there was nothing I could do.”

She looked into his eyes and reached up to put her hand on his cheek. “It’s okay.” She pulled her shirt up, stopping just under her bra, and placed his hand on her abdomen over the spot where she’d been stabbed. “See? It’s like it never happened.”

He rubbed a finger across her smooth skin. “And next time?”

“I’m not going to stop being a hero,” she told him matter-of-factly, her eyes narrowed and her jaw set as if daring him to argue the point.

“Nor could I ask you to,” he agreed, squeezing her side gently. “You wouldn’t be the same fierce, brave woman I love if you would give it up just because of this. Just… be careful.”

She snorted. “Next time I save my team leader from a flying sword, I’ll be sure to duck!”

“I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispered. She responded by pulling him down onto the bed and kissing him tenderly. He slid his hand around to her back, holding her tightly to himself until she finally broke the kiss and pulled away to look up into his eyes again.

Luka lay back down on the bed next to her, pulled her back flush against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her stomach gently. She sighed in contentment and snuggled up against him. Kagami may have been hurt the one time he wasn’t there to save her, but that’s why they were part of a team. For the first time since she’d been hurt, Luka finally allowed himself to hear her song, soft and tender, full of trust and affection, despite everything that had happened. No matter what happened in the future, for today they were together.

Perhaps that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve seen/heard a few places that “a story about a steady relationship is boring” and I think that’s disingenuous. You can make a story about two people in a steady relationship interesting without manufacturing conflict for them. If you can’t figure out how to make “dating/engaged/married (to a) superhero” interesting, you just aren’t trying. Or you don’t understand how marriage and relationships actually work! I mean, not only do you have the normal relationship stuff, but you also have the fact that your partner is going out and risking their life daily – and that’s going to cause tension that needs to be worked through (together). None of the (admittedly underplayed) conflict in this chapter was artificial or manufactured; it was just two characters being forced to confront the reality in which they live, exemplified by this specific event. That’s been part of my reasoning for this series: showing that romance isn’t just about the “getting together”; it’s also about the ups and downs of being in a relationship. Because relationships take work. But when you and your partner work well together, they are worth it.


	30. Denouement Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Heroes and villains come to terms with the battle's results

“Are you going somewhere?” Pegasus dropped from the apartment building’s roof to land a meter away in front of the well-built man with short-cropped brown hair who had just stepped outside. They had cleaned up the situation in Rouen less than two hours earlier, and of that time it had taken him and Sabrina ninety minutes of furious searching to find this man. After everything that happened today, Pegasus would not let him escape justice.

“P–Pegasus!” the man squawked, his eyes bugging out. The car keys shook in his hand, and he nearly dropped the duffel slung over his shoulder. “W–what can I do for you?”

“You can answer exactly one question for me, Officer Brissot,” he replied calmly, twirling his horseshoe casually around one hand. “Did you really think putting a down payment greater than thrice your annual salary on a new boat was the most prudent use of your bribe money?”

“I… I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about, um, Pegasus!” Brissot insisted, backing up slowly.

Pegasus held up his horseshoe and hit a button to play the video already cued up on the screen in the horseshoe’s negative space. Brissot’s cheeks paled as he watched himself walk into a store and place a briefcase filled with crisp Euros on the counter. The salesman walked him out to the dock, and he climbed onto the deck of a motorboat. Pegasus glared at him through the video before hitting another button. Brissot furrowed his brow in confusion. “Perhaps _this_ will help clear everything up…” Pegasus scrolled to the top of the page, showing the bank account number. “Given the number of robberies the Heroes of Paris have prevented at Banque de France locations – the majority perpetrated by your… benefactor – are you surprised they would cooperate with us?”

Brissot stared at him, mouth agape, before throwing his keys at Pegasus, dropping his duffel to the ground, and racing down the sidewalk in the opposite direction from Pegasus.

Pegasus leaned to one side to avoid the flying keys and snorted. “Voyage!” he shouted. A portal appeared directly in front of Brissot, who barreled straight through it and directly into a cement block wall. He bounced off with a thud and collapsed to the ground, holding his head and moaning in pain. Pegasus calmly walked over to the portal and stepped through.

“Let me guess, he tried to run?” asked Roger, sitting at his desk, an official-looking folder open in front of him. He watched Brissot curl in on himself, cradling his injured head, in mild amusement.

“That would be correct,” Pegasus confirmed, nodding. “I leave him in your capable hands!”

“Thank you… Pegasus,” Roger told him. He rose and walked over to stand next to Pegasus, looking down at the Brissot in disgust. Softly he asked, “So are you coming over tonight? Irene is making coq au vin.”

“I do not know,” Pegasus replied, equally softly. “This has been a long and stressful day.”

“Understood.” Louder, Roger added, “Pass along my gratitude to the rest of the Heroes of Paris for their assistance today – and for their assistance with our _pest_ problem.”

Pegasus nodded and stepped out of Roger’s office through the still-open portal. The last thing he heard before the portal closed was Roger’s booming baritone rattling the walls of his office.

“YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE DISGRACE TO THE BADGE! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING!?! YOU HAVE SOME NERVE EVEN _SHOWING YOUR FACE_ IN THIS OFFICE AGAIN! IF IT WERE UP TO ME I WOULD FLAY YOU ALIVE AND THEN HANG UP YOUR SKIN FROM THE EIFFEL TOWER! AFTER THAT STUNT YOU PULLED IT’S TOO BAD THE GUILLOTINE WENT OUT OF FASHION YOU GOD-DAMN SON OF A–”

* * *

The next afternoon, Max joined the others in the conference room. He took his accustomed seat next to Sabrina, who gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Despite the previous day’s events, the rest of the group appeared none the worse for wear. Chloe was sporting a cut over her eye where one of Lynchpin’s local hired muscle guys had pistol-whipped her when she wasn’t looking. Nino still appeared emotionally drained after the ambush. And yet, they had survived. More than that.

“What does the situation look like?” asked Marinette, looking between Max and Sabrina.

Max grinned. “The simplest answer is that, based on all available data, we have crippled Lynchpin’s drug smuggling operation – at least temporarily,” he amended. “Admittedly it is still a small sample size, but the number of Lynchpin’s drug dealers operating has reached an all-time low. The computer virus essentially erased all Lynchpin shipments from the company’s computers, and the Honfleur police have agreed to seize the containers as they arrive in port. The American team made another raid on his supplier’s farm yesterday, and this time they shut it down entirely and burned the crop. If he attempts to restart his drug dealing operation, he will have to start entirely from scratch.”

“The men we captured gave up the locations of a couple more of Lynchpin’s warehouses. The police raided all of them last night and found them largely empty,” Sabrina added. “He’s really down to the bottom of his stock at this point.”

“The rehab center has seen a lot of people since it opened,” Adrien noted. “If this really is going to put Lynchpin out of business, we’ll probably see even more patients sooner than later. The next three are just about ready to open; they should be up and running by the end of the week.”

“See?” Alya joked, looking at Chloe. “We can help people _without_ punching them in the face!”

Chloe stuck out her tongue. “I still think our way is more fun!”

“We have also captured our _second_ version of the Mecha-Man suit,” Max continued. “I found and removed two GPS trackers before moving it, but my scanners did not identify any additional GPS devices. At present I am unsure what to do with it, but I am open to suggestions.”

“Could we use it ourselves?” asked Adrien, grinning.

“Not without significant modification,” Max replied, shaking his head. “It is designed to the dimensions of the specific pilot and would require resizing. But it is a possibility. And I may even be able to improve the heat shielding using panels from the alien pod we recovered.”

Sabrina giggled. “My father is very grateful for everything we accomplished this summer,” she told them. “He is… hopeful that this will reduce the drug-related crime in the city. And he also said that the Prefect of Police approached him to start a new department exclusively to liaise with us.”

“What is that going to mean?” Adrien asked.

“It means he would be our contact with the police _officially_ ,” she explained. “He wants some help from us to make sure no one he recruits is secretly working for the bad guys.”

“So business as usual, then?” Nino joked, raising an eyebrow at Max.

“This time we will be much more cautious,” promised Max. He frowned. “I cannot apologize enough for missing Brissot, the mole that blew yesterday’s operation.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, dude,” Nino told him. “We all made it out okay thanks to you.”

“We did have some assistance,” Max pointed out.

“Thanks to your portal tech,” Alya commented.

“It’s amazing you got it done!” Marinette agreed. “How is the installation process going?”

Max shrugged. “Paola and I have the units here, Peru, and Egypt all operational,” he replied, gesturing to Chloe as evidence. “The two of us and Mohamed, the African group’s technology support person, are going to install the final four units in the remaining African temples over the next two days. Yousef has already granted us access to all the African temples via the portal system. However, as the rings are constructed at present, the Mansion will act as a hub. Anyone wishing to travel between two of the temples will have to stop here first. I am working on an upgrade so the other rings can communicate directly with each other, but that may take some time to install. For now, it is what it is.”

Sabrina put an arm around Max’s shoulders in a congratulatory hug. “Considering where you started, this is quite the accomplishment,” she reminded him.

“I can’t believe in less than a year we’ve gone from just the Heroes of Paris to having friends all over the world!” Marinette commented, shaking her head in amazement. “It’s… a little overwhelming.”

Alya gave Nino a glance, and he nodded. “We’ve talked,” she began, “and we think we should offer more help to some of the new heroes like Caravela and O Patriota in Lisbon. We’ve helped them a little, but I think there’s more we can do.”

“Go for it!” Adrien encouraged. “After they helped us out yesterday, it’s the least we can do.” He chuckled ruefully and shared a look with Marinette. “Considering how much trouble we went through during our first year, I kinda wish _we_ ’d had someone to show us the ropes…”

Marinette nodded and squeezed his hand. Hesitantly she said, “Now that we have an easy way to get together with the portal rings – and now that we’ve met the leaders of two of the other Miraculous groups – I think it’s time to have a meeting with the leaders of these three Miraculous teams – Jueran Eazim and Rugindo Leoa for the Africans, and Águila Altíssimo and Lupa Gris for the Americans.”

“We definitely need to have a long talk with them about Atlantis,” Adrien agreed. “The Reindeer is the fifth Atlantean Miraculous to show up, and it’s the second one to be on Lynchpin’s team. Add to that at least the Shark, and that’s three miraculous that were in the wrong hands for who knows how long.”

Chloe nodded. “I’ll talk to Yousef and Mihaela to set up the meeting as soon as I return to Cairo,” she promised. She furrowed her brow at Marinette. “So just how long do you plan on leaving us in the desert?”

Marinette giggled. “I guess now that we have a way to get back and forth even without Max, you three can return any time you want,” she answered.

“Good,” commented Chloe, arching an eyebrow. “I think Alix is getting tired of having to clean sand out of her wheels. And I _know_ all the sand and heat hasn’t exactly been good for my complexion!”

Adrien laughed. “You know it’s just because you miss us!”


	31. Denouement Chapter 2

Gaston leaned against the worktable and tested the fit on one of the new metal gauntlets they had finished building the week before. He twisted his wrist to check how well it moved and nodded in satisfaction, opening and closing his fist. Antoine hunched over a leg piece, making adjustments with a screwdriver. Half an old damaged chest plate rested on the floor, leaning up against the workbench leg, propped up by an old hydraulic that had been slashed clean through. All told, they had about two-thirds of the total number of pieces that went into the Mecha-Man armor, and some of them were older or damaged parts from previous versions that Antoine had scrounged from the scrap pile after they returned to headquarters.

That was not quite enough to build an entire armor – certainly not one as advanced as the one they had lost.

Still, all things considered, Gaston didn’t really have much room for complaint. When he had cut his way through the straps holding him in the old armor and escaped from the Heroes with the others, he had half-expected one of the Heroes to catch him with a flying tackle, or else to rope him up with a yo-yo. He had been so convinced he would be arrested, he had nearly passed out from relief when he landed in Night Bat’s getaway boat with the others. So he hadn’t been arrested. But on the other, he had also lost his armor – expensive, cutting edge equipment – to the Heroes. And yet, what was he supposed to do? The plan had worked exactly the way it was supposed to. He had done everything he could – he had shot no less than _three_ of them with chi-putty, including Ladybug and Cat Noir themselves! But even still it hadn’t been enough. Somehow the Heroes had slipped out of their grasp. And in the end he’d barely escaped with his freedom.

“Did you know there were so many of the heroes?” he asked when Antoine leaned back and pushed up his magnifying glasses to examine his handiwork.

“Nope,” Antoine replied, picking up a pair of pliers and holding a loose wire in place while tightening the screw that would hold it down inside the leg piece. “Although it doesn’t matter how many of them there are; they can’t stand up to my baby!”

“It felt a lot smoother, all right,” Gaston agreed. “The targeting could have been better; I lost a couple seconds lining up the shot every time.”

Antoine tossed him the helmet, one of the only entirely-new pieces they had finished for this latest armor. “I streamlined the targeting system for you – hardware and software. It should be faster now. And eliminating a few of the processors in the helmet gave me space to add that hearing protection you wanted.”

“Thanks.” Gaston placed the helmet on his head, and it booted up immediately. His eyes scanned rapidly through the operating system menu as he began familiarizing himself with the new setup. Once he was satisfied, he finally asked, “Have you figured out yet what happened? One minute everything was fine; the next, everything went haywire on me.”

Antoine didn’t take his eyes off the leg piece he was adjusting. “Obviously Pegasus uploaded a virus to your system that allowed him to take control of the suit remotely,” he answered. “But without the suit itself to run a diagnostic on, I can’t figure out _exactly_ how the virus actually functioned.” He looked up and tapped the side of Gaston’s head. “But I removed the exterior USB port that he used to do it, so he shouldn’t be able to pull the same stunt on us again.”

Gaston scowled. “When I get my hands on that little twerp…”

Antoine shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. That suit was near the end of its lifespan anyways; we were already going to need to upgrade a few things – more than we could have done on the existing platform. It is only unfortunate that we lost the old suit before the rest of the upgraded suit was ready.”

“Any chance of one of those upgrades being a jetpack? It was a little annoying to have Hato Gozen flying around my head!”

“If Lynchpin hadn’t lost that spaceship, I might have been able to adapt the maneuvering thrusters into a personal jetpack,” Antoine answered. “But without the ship itself…”

“You can’t do it?”

“I didn’t say _that_ ,” he retorted. “Though it will take a little more time.”

“Unfortunately, some of these plans will have to be put on hold,” a new voice interrupted. Gaston removed the helmet and turned to find Night Bat standing behind them, an indecipherable expression on his face. “After yesterday, Lynchpin is unsure where the funds for the next Mecha-Man suit will come from.”

“What do you mean he is unsure where the funds will come from?” demanded Antoine, looking up from the arm piece he was working on and glaring at the newcomer. “We can’t just _abandon_ the Mecha-Man project!”

“There are going to be some budget cuts,” Night Bat replied, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Lynchpin needs to figure out a new stream of income.”

Gaston frowned. “So you’re saying the Lynchpin is broke. What does that mean for us, boss?”

Night Bat scoffed. “Oh, don’t worry: I still have plans for you and the others,” he replied ominously. “Do what you can with what you have. I will let you know when I next have need of you.” With that he left them and walked over to where Cerna was holding a bandage to a cut on the Deaconess’s forehead.

“Hold still, Marta,” Cerna scolded. “Do you want this to scar?”

“The overemphasis on beauty is pure vanity,” the Deaconess replied, giving Cerna an annoyed look. “An Acolyte has no need for _that_.” Nevertheless, she stopped fidgeting while Cerna carefully sewed the gash closed.

“Perhaps not,” Night Bat observed. “But an Acolyte _does_ have need of effectiveness.”

The Deaconess scowled, and Cerna frowned. “If it hadn’t been for Marta, I probably wouldn’t have escaped,” she pointed out. “Losing today wasn’t her fault any more than the rest of us.”

Night Bat hummed softly, eyes narrowing in consideration. “Perhaps,” he conceded, turning toward the exit. As he left he called over his shoulder, “All the same, you both require further practice before your next encounter with the Heroes of Paris.”

Once Night Bat was out of earshot, Gaston turned to Antoine and observed, “If Lynchpin’s not going to be paying as much, where does that leave us? I mean, my family can’t exactly _eat_ Night Bat’s plans… And my son’s probably going to need braces in a year or two.”

Antoine shuddered. “I don’t envy you that headache,” he commented. “My daughter’s braces probably bought the orthodontist’s retirement house… Still, I would take that again over having to pay for her university tuition. Why she chose England…” He hummed softly and looked up at Gaston, his brows furrowed. “Why should we have to starve just because Lynchpin is cutting back?” he asked. “We have enough pieces right here to start cobbling something together right now – and it will be easier and less expensive to build this new suit than it was to build the first one. After all, we are not developing new technology since we’ve already built it twice. Then we can improve the suit a little at a time after each successful job.”

“You want to start freelancing?” asked Gaston. He frowned. Knowing Lynchpin, if they got caught doing their own thing, there could be hell to pay: Lynchpin had already threatened to hurt his son if he stepped out of line. But at the same time, even a single job with Antoine where they were the only two splitting the take could set his family for a few months. And if Lynchpin’s income was going down, that wasn’t a possibility to be ignored. He shrugged. “I’m in.”


	32. Denouement Chapter 3

Roger Raincomprix parked his unmarked police car in his reserved spot outside their apartment building after a long day of meetings. First had been the meeting with the Prefect of Police and Mayor Bourgeois to discuss his new department. That had involved four hours of hammering out the details of creating the first new department introduced in decades – the first hour of which was dedicated to determining whether to _tell_ people that the new department even existed, and if they did tell them, how much the general public could know! Then after lunch he had met for six hours with the Prevote to discuss staffing concerns. The Prevote had proposed a much larger department than Roger was comfortable with; Roger had insisted on keeping those under his direct supervision relatively small, no larger than a single precinct, but giving the department latitude to bring in resources from other departments on a temporary basis as needed.

Then had come the question about who should be in the new department, and Roger had drawn a complete blank. He had selected the men for last week’s series of raids personally, and one of them had tipped off the Lynchpin! He and Marc Brissot went to Academy together! They fished together on weekends! He was godfather to Brissot’s oldest – not that his ex-wife let Roger _or_ Marc have anything to do with the boy. He’d trusted Brissot, and he had betrayed every ideal for which the police stood. Who could he trust? And since every member of his team was going to be working directly with the Heroes of Paris – and all that entailed – he could not afford to make _another_ mistake – not when the Heroes’ safety could be on the line. If he was going to do this, that meant getting a little more help from the Heroes of Paris, as much as he hated to bother them with more of his paperwork.

There was a reason he had never aspired to be more than just a uniformed officer.

When he had first joined the force, he had wanted nothing more than to serve and protect the people of Paris. He had graduated in the middle of his class at the Police Academy, and that had been just fine for him. He didn’t need the best or most prestigious position to help people. It was enough to carry a badge and wear the uniform. He had never even considered taking the Lieutenant exam before Sabrina reached collège; even then, he had only taken it because the promotion would allow him to put a little money aside to help her pay for university expenses. But even as a lieutenant, the paperwork was his least-favorite part of the job. He much preferred to be out among the citizens.

When his prefect first recommended him for captain three years ago, he had refused out of hand. Even the second time, when the recommendation had come from Andre himself, Roger had refused. He had no desire to go from supervising a shift to supervising a station. Being a captain meant far more time playing nice with the bureaucracy and far less time actually serving the people – and even if he had been inclined to take advantage of it, a personal friendship with the Mayor would only get him so far within the Prefecture’s medieval bureaucracy. His days of arresting criminals and investigating their crimes would have been behind him.

And then he had gotten two different warnings – first from Alya and then from Rena Rouge – that this Lynchpin character had a mole in the Police Prefecture. And not just in the police, but in Roger’s own station. He could stick his head in the sand and pretend it wasn’t happening, but what would be the point? He could investigate all he wanted and arrest the criminals, but at the end of the day one of his brothers was disgracing the uniform by working for the wrong side and undoing everything that the police stood for. The moment that became known, public faith in the police would evaporate, and his job would become even _harder_. There was precious little that a lieutenant could do; a captain could actually make a difference – even if only in a small way. And the Heroes of Paris had trusted _him_ with the warning.

When he’d been recommended the third time for a captaincy in the wake of the Agreste investigation, he had not hesitated to accept.

He had wondered many times why Rena Rouge insisted on dropping her perps off with him instead of any other officer. Why did the Heroes of Paris seem to trust him as their police contact? Yes, he knew Andre. Yes, his daughter was best friends with the only publicly-known hero in Paris in Queen Bee. But why did they trust _him_ specifically?

The answer to that question had still been on his mind when the Prevote first approached him about the liaison position, just as he was leaving for the day following the final round of raids. There was no way he could forget the moment of fear he had felt when the woman with the battleaxe had launched him into the air and tried to kill him, only for an Akuma to melt into his pistol and transform him. And there was no way he could forget when he heard and recognized Sabrina’s voice in his head, begging him to be careful and just get his men out of harm’s way.

It had not been much of a stretch from there to piece together that Max had to be a hero also – Pegasus, of course, since the two of them seemed to work together so closely. If his daughter – and her boyfriend – were Heroes of Paris, how could he refuse to accept this new sub-prefect position, even if it _would_ mean vastly more paperwork and responsibility? After all, these kids – his own daughter among them – were looking out for the entire city; the least he could do was ensure that the police would look out for _them_.

He walked through the apartment door and tossed his hat on the hook before going over to the couch where Irene was working on a crossword puzzle. She looked up and met him with a kiss.

“The kids insisted on making dinner tonight,” she explained, patting the cushion next to her.

He sat down and chuckled. “I suppose that’s the big test, isn’t it?” he asked rhetorically. “If they can survive cooking together, they can survive anything!” Although from what he could tell, working together was never going to be a problem for those two…

As if on cue, Max walked into the living room and handed Roger a beer. “Sabrina asked me to bring you this,” he told him nervously.

Roger nodded and accepted the beer, popping the cap with the bottle opener on his keychain. He took a sip and gave Irene a look. She smiled and patted his arm before getting up and going into the kitchen. “Take a seat, son,” Roger instructed, eyeing Max appraisingly. “I promise I don’t make a habit of murdering my daughter’s boyfriends.”

Max flushed but obeyed. He examined his hands for a moment before looking up and saying, “Sir, allow me to explain–”

Roger held up a hand to stop him. “Son, first off, how many times do I have to tell you to lay off the ‘sir’ business? Now, is this about your extracurricular activities?” When Max nodded mutely, Roger went on, “The less I really know about that, the better it will be for everyone, I think. Just… take good care of my daughter. You know how precious she is.”

Max nodded. “Absolutely.” Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a small box and handed it to Roger.

Roger opened the box to reveal a silver watch on a leather band. “I… already have a watch,” he told him, furrowing his brows.

Max smirked. “I think you will find you prefer to wear this one.”

Roger withdrew the watch from the box and examined it more closely. It was a simple watch, no more than a policeman would normally wear. A note stuck to the back of the watch fell off in his hand. Unfolding it he read, “Press and hold the button on the side in case of emergency.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The watch is one of the Heroes’ emergency watches (though without all the same functions). They will give a variation on the emergency watch to some of those who are close to the Heroes and know some of their identities but aren’t actually heroes themselves (Mme Lenoir, Tom and Sabine, Alim Kubdel, etc.). I did consider having Roger as the final mole, but decided against it. It’s so much more interesting long-term to put him into the Commissioner Gordon role (down to his own daughter being a superhero), especially with him “knowing without knowing” that his daughter and her boyfriend are both superheroes.


End file.
